


A Guide from the Fade

by BasicTrevelyan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Modern Girl in Thedas, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24073639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasicTrevelyan/pseuds/BasicTrevelyan
Summary: Charlotte is a nobody. With nothing much going for her on earth but a rubbish engineering degree, she escapes into far off worlds and grand adventures by means of video games like Dragon Age. When she stumbles into the Fade and subsequently into the very real and deadly world of Thedas, her technical know-how and prescient knowledge suddenly catapult her into being one of the most important people in the world. Can she ensure the Inquisition's success? Or will her meddling bring Thedas to ruin?
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Original Character(s), Cullen Rutherford/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 110





	1. The Bridge Between Worlds

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic, and I thought I'd try my hand at the MGiT trope and explore some things I haven't seen done before with it. I've seen a few (fabulous) MGiT fics about modern nurses helping the Inquisition with their advanced medical knowledge, but what about technology and engineering?   
> I'm writing as I go along but I'll be aiming for regular updates. Tags will be updated as I update the fic, but I'm not expecting to introduce very mature content. Comments and critique are super welcome :)

In my heart of hearts, part of me always believed that there were magical doorways in the mundane and quiet places of the world. I fooled myself that I could feel it sometimes, coming from the wardrobe in my grandmother's house, or the remaining doorways in crumbling castles on rainy days. The Narnia books and other fantasy stories had a lot to do with that of course, especially when earth was being disappointing. Every time life got too heavy, I would escape to a different fantasy universe. The Wizard of Oz was a favourite as a child, and when I got older I sunk all of my time into video games like Dragon Age or Fable.

Maybe that was why I chose to go walking that day, in the fields by the housing estate where I lived. They were mundane and quiet. They were partially used for crops by a small industrial farm, but in between the neat grids of green sprouts were trees, and in between the trees were little wild canopied paths where bluebells grew in the springtime.

I wandered listlessly, kicking the dirt with my old green wellingtons and daydreaming, when I came across my favourite route through the hedgerow. The bluebells had just gone by now, but the shadowy path still looked invitingly secretive. It definitely looked like the sort of place that someone might go into and never be seen again, which sounded pretty appealing to me in my current sorry state.

As I picked my way over old tree roots and brambles, I couldn't help but pull my phone out of my backpack and check my emails again, in the vain hope that at least one of all the applications I'd sent out had returned something at last. Still nothing. I looked over at sunlight spilling onto the path from an opening in the hedgerow. Two rowan trees framed a scene of the next field, a solitary oak in the distance, the sky a startling blue. I did not think the day was hot enough for it, but the air seemed to be shimmering, the slightest amount. I stood up, stuffing my phone in my jeans back pocket, and stood at the opening.

This was my favourite thing to do when I found what I imagined to be a doorway; close my eyes, step through, and for just a second believe that I'd been taken somewhere else. I held a breath, closed my eyes and walked forward. I felt the light change on my eyelids as I passed through, as if a shadow passed over them. I'd been expecting it to get brighter as I stepped into the sun, and a slight burst of hope fluttered in my chest as I imagined that meant something had happened. I let myself down gently, by considering that I'd probably just walked in the wrong direction and I should open my eyes again to make sure I wasn't about to walk into the rowan tree.

* * *

When I opened my eyes I saw three crumbling marble columns, floating in mid air. They were suspended against a tumultuous sky of churning grey clouds, crackling with flashes of green light. I was frozen in place, heart suddenly hammering in my chest, running through every possible explanation for what I was seeing in my mind. Was I hallucinating? Was this some elaborate prank? Or was this a case of being careful what you wished for? The one thing all those possibilities had in common was that I was going to have to be very, very careful right now.

I breathed deep, trying to get in control of my urge to panic. But as I let the breath out, I felt the world tilt. I looked down and realised I'd been standing on a miniscule peak at the top of a sheer rock precipice, and I was quickly toppling over the edge.  
There was no saving it now. I could only clutch at the air and try and somehow grip with my feet, but the rubber soles of my wellies slipped off the edge, scattering tiny stones into the abyss. I opened my mouth to scream and squeezed my eyes shut, but all the noise got knocked out of me as I hit a solid stone floor.

It was a lot softer and a lot sooner a landing than made sense. I rolled onto my back, too much adrenaline in my system to feel how much my arm was smarting from the fall. I opened my eyes once more, only to be confronted by the marble columns again. They drifted serenely in the air, but this time they were horizontal, rather than vertical. I looked around, and found myself somehow sat on the side of the cliff I'd been falling down. It seemed that what had been downwards before, wasn't any longer.

Still feeling my heart thudding in my chest, I got up, shaking hands pressing against the cold stone ground. Praying that gravity would stay this way round long enough for me to get out of here- or at least somewhere with 4 walls and a ceiling- I looked around me. I stood close to the edge that I'd fallen over, and saw in that direction gargantuan forms of rock hanging in the air. Oddly nestled in chunks of stone were bits of antique furniture and old fashioned architecture. A floating boulder supported two wallpapered walls and a fireplace, while a twisting spiral staircase went diagonally from one stone platform to another, candle sconces sticking out at odd angles from the steps.

It was spectacular, just like a dreamscape from one of those fantasies I'd spent so long indulging in, only much more frightening. It bore a striking resemblance to one dreamscape in particular, though- I was looking at the Fade. The Fade from Dragon Age. It was exactly the same. It made me wonder if whoever had come up with the design for the Fade had seen what I was seeing. Or maybe my fear-addled brain was just clinging to the closest semblance of familiarity.

Looking back away from the edge, some distance away was what looked like the portico of an ancient Roman marble building, jutting out of the ground at a peculiar angle. Nearby, a rickety-looking set of wooden stairs extended upwards and lead to nowhere. I didn't know where I was, or what was going on, but staying here wasn't going to be safe. I started running as fast as my weak legs would allow, past the stairs to the portico, hoping to be in its shelter in case the world turned around again. I'd only taken a few steps when a much louder crackle than the electrical rumblings in the sky almost made me jump out of my skin. Above the staircase heading to nowhere, an orb of green light appeared in a blast of energy. My instinct was to run away, but there was nowhere to run to. I flinched again as a voice rang out, loud and booming, coming from every direction at once.

"Go" it said. “You have everything you need.”

It was the only lead I had. There was no reason to believe that walking around this bizarre world would lead me back to the fields, and on reflection, sheltering in strange structures in this place was probably about as wise as sheltering in a cave that you can't see the back of. The orb of light was distorting the world around it, making a crudely carved statuette on the top of the staircase’s newel post look like it was being sucked inside. I loved to find doorways in the world, and this sure looked like it went somewhere. Just about as much as it looked like it might squash me down to the size of a marble. Detesting every step, I approached the staircase and started to climb.


	2. Blistering Reality

My first thought on waking was how warm I was. My second thought was how sore my arm was. My eyelids snapped open as I remembered where I'd been, and how much danger I was still in. I groggily, but urgently, pulled myself up on my better arm, and found myself in a small cabin.

There was a stone fireplace with a fire blazing in it that explained the warmth, but the walls were raw wooden planks. The bed I was sitting in was wooden too, with sheets made of fabric that looked hand woven, and a real fur pelt laid over the top. Whoever had put me here had removed my wellies and placed them by the bed, but thankfully left my jeans, t shirt and sweatshirt on. My backpack was gone. The rest of the room was sparsely furnished, with a rather battered wooden chair, a bookcase filled with leather bound tomes, and a desk covered in curling papers. Worryingly, the desk also had a few flasks on it filled with slightly luminous liquids, which made me wonder what I'd been fed while I was asleep.

I went over the possibilities once more; elaborate prank was definitely still on the list, although that hardly explained the Fade-like dreamscape I'd just experienced. Maybe I'd been rescued by some incredibly dedicated LARPers from a self-pity induced hallucination fit. That would explain the bottles on the desk more than it being a reclusive, technology-fearing cult. Wherever I was, there were definitely people here, judging from the voices and sounds of hustle and bustle coming from outside.

I looked to the door. White-blue light shone through the cracks in it, and it rattled slightly in gusts of wind. The fire and the pelt too implied that it was cold outside. The last thing I remembered before things went sideways, literally, was the balmy warmth of late spring. Had I been asleep long enough for it to be winter? Nothing at all about this made any sense.

Suddenly, the door opened, and a portly middle-aged woman walked into the room, wrapped up in a wool cloak. She stamped snow off her boots and took off her cloak, revealing that she was dressed in what I’d consider typical medieval peasant garb, a green smock dress over a white shift. When she spotted me sat up in bed, her face burst into a grin.

“You’re awake! How are you feeling?” she said, pulling up the chair to sit by my bedside.

“I’m alright, just... groggy and a bit bruised” I responded tentatively. She didn't seem like a cultist, at least.

“Oh dear, well you’re a good sight in better shape than some of the other folks that’ve been coming down the mountain, my dear. Adan would be here but he’s rushed off his feet!” she said, more to herself than to me. I huffed, thinking it was typical that whoever that was would have a name from Dragon Age. She headed back to get her cloak. “I’ll have to go get-”

“Excuse me,” I interrupted, “but um… where am I?”. She looked at me with a pitying grin.

“You’re in Haven, dear. With the Inquisition?”

Her response hit me like a ton of bricks. Bumping up my list of possibilities was the chance that this was what I'd seen was really the Fade, and I'd been taken somewhere else after all. I wordlessly pulled back my covers, got up, and moved to the door. The woman went to hold me back, but I pushed her arm aside and yanked the door open. The rush of cold air from the doorway was a shock to my system, but that shock was nothing compared to what I felt when I took in the scene before me.

It was Haven, without question, only at a much greater scale than I’d seen rendered on my laptop screen. The Chantry stood proud on the hilltop, a taller hill than in the game. There were many more of the wooden cabins around, enough that this felt like a real settlement where people lived. And there were people everywhere, filling the village to bursting. Soldiers in Fereldan armour stood chatting in doorways, while men and women in more of the simple woollen clothing squeezed past them carrying wicker baskets or metal ewers. All kinds of people milled about at stalls down the street I was on, haggling over everything from reels of string, to sacks of vegetables, to battered metal shields. Someone very tall in the crowd caught my eye, and with a start I noticed the curved horns extending upward from the sides of their head. A Qunari.

This meant a few things. I couldn’t deny any more that this was real, I was truly in Thedas somehow. Haven was still standing, but I didn’t see anyone in Inquisition armour, suggesting it hadn’t been formally started yet. The green light reflecting off the stone front of the Chantry implied that the conclave disaster had happened though, and I stepped forward to look for the Breach in the sky for confirmation.

This caught the attention of another armoured soldier to the right of the cabin door. They stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the village, and put a hand on my shoulder. I got the message. I stepped backwards into the cabin and let them silently shut the door on me. However it was I’d gotten here, it had been unusual enough that I was a person of interest to the Inquisition. Or worse, a potential spy. At least I hadn’t woken up in a cell, like the future Inquisitor did- providing what was happening here was following the events of the game at all.

“You’re not free to leave just yet, lass.” the woman’s voice said. “I’m going to go get Seeker Cassandra, and we’ll get this all sorted out, alright?” I turned to look at her and found her still smiling at me sadly.

“Just a second, I’m- can I ask you some questions?” I said, my voice trembling slightly.

“Seeker Cassandra will be here in just a moment, dear. I'm sure she’ll explain everything. Why don’t you sit yourself down and here, have some water.”

I conceded to sitting back down in the chair, feeling somewhat like a school child sent to the nurse’s office, and she poured me some water from a ewer into a metal cup before putting her cloak back on and leaving the room.  
I was suspicious of the water, but I figured that a stomach upset was the least of my worries at this point. I took a sip and found it had a subtle taste of barley. Feeling a little better, my thoughts turned to my situation, and what I should do next.

Thedas was a dangerous place. The thought of magic that could level a city or an underground army of creatures that could swarm the surface at any time made my blood run cold. I didn't have any idea how to even start trying to find a way back to the real world. That being said though, the Inquisition's base was a pretty safe place to be until I could get back home. There were dangers coming up, potentially very soon, but I knew what they were. What if I could prevent them?

My thoughts went to the voice I heard in what must have really been the Fade. You have everything you need. It boggled my mind how this place could exist as well as a video game that represented it so faithfully in my world. But what if the thing I needed was the knowledge I had from sinking hundreds of hours into that game? It would be very satisfying to know I'd actually been doing the more useful thing by playing through Dragon Age over and over instead of revising for a degree that meant nothing here.

That almost made me not want to go back- on earth I had few friends, a family I didn't get on with, no job and a crap degree. Here, I was at the birthplace of what would become the world's most influential power. What was a pretty standard education back on Earth was arcane knowledge Thedas's greatest scholars could only dream of- not to mention what I knew of the future. Providing the Inquisition didn't lock me up, throw me out, or kill me.

Being plunged into a medieval fantasy world with the prospect of dangers like darkspawn and magic was already pretty alarming, but I mostly hoped I hadn’t been imagining the green light on the Chantry. If the Breach wasn’t there, that either meant that it was before the disaster at the conclave and things were about to get very hairy around here, or the Breach had just been closed and the village was within hours of getting overrun by Corypheus’s army.

* * *

I didn't know how long I'd been sitting there, wracking my brains about how to explain myself when two women, and by extension four of the most amazing cheekbones, entered the cabin. They were unmistakably the two hands of the Divine. I jumped to my feet, standing to face them. Leliana's blue eyes looked even more piercing in the flesh as she inspected me with a totally unreadable expression, then turned away to put a small wooden box on the desk. Cassandra was concealing much less. She was putting on a stern face, but it was obvious she was worried from the way her brow furrowed. She looked me up and down with some curiosity, taking in what must have been a very strange appearance. Both of them looked tired, most of all.

"Tell us who you are and how you got here." asked Cassandra. No formalities or introductions- I was definitely a person of suspicion then. In the time I had been waiting for them, I'd concluded that honesty about where I'd come from was the only real option for me. Strange enough things were possible in Thedas and there was no way I'd manage to fit in here when I didn't even know what kind of toilet they used.

"My name is Charlotte. I've come from another world." I said, lamely. As soon as it came out of my mouth it sounded like nonsense and Cassandra's raised eyebrow told me she thought so too. "I'm- not from Thedas. I got taken through the Fade."

That was clearly a little more interesting.

"You're from another world." Cassandra repeated slowly. I suddenly thought of the disembodied voice I'd heard in the Fade.

"I think I'm supposed to be here." I went on, wringing my hands together in my nervousness. Cassandra's forehead wrinkled even more. Leliana's eyes widened a little. "I was out walking near where I live, and I closed my eyes for a moment, and when I opened them I was in the Fade. What I think was a rift opened and I heard a voice telling me ... I have everything I need and that I should go. I went through, and… now I'm here."

The two of them just stared at me in a way that made me regret everything I'd just said and the way I'd said it.

"If you're from somewhere else then how do you know about the rifts?" Leliana finally spoke, her halting accent exactly the same as in the game.

"Well…" I considered whether it would be too much at once to say the whole truth, but this was proving what a disaster it would be to withhold anything already. "I know things about this place, not everything but- in my world, this is a story. It's like if you got magicked into a book you were reading"

Silence and narrowed eyes. Too much information at once. Leliana shook her head and then picked the box back up from the desk.

"Explain this." she said, opening it. Inside, on a padded cloth interior was my phone. My phone! I'd assumed that it had fallen out of my pocket during my journey through the Fade. This was an interesting development.

"Where I come from, we have much more advanced technology than here." I explained. "That's called a mobile phone. Everyone has one in my world. It does- well it does lots of things." How does one begin to explain something as complex as a mobile phone?

"Like a weapon?" Asked Cassandra.

"No, more like a tool- for information. It's a communication device, but it also can be used to look up information, or take pic- or calculate things, or keep track of time, or store your schedule. Here, I can show yo-"  
Leliana closed the box before I could reach for it. Evidently she did not trust me enough to let me tamper with this strange device that could level Haven as far as she knew. Cassandra turned to face her.

"We should bring her in to the war council. The others need to hear this."

Leliana scoffed.

"You don't think any of this is really true, Cassandra? She could have been the one that killed the Most Holy!"

"We locked up the first person to fall out of a rift, and look what she's done. The Breach is stabilised. If she claims to have advanced technology, we'd be fools not to at least try and see what she can do for the Inquisition."

"Fine." Snapped Leliana, turning back to face me. "You'll be summoned later. Better get your story straight." And with that warning, the two of them left the room.


	3. Twin Moons

I spent the next couple of hours pacing around the room, thinking about how I would possibly convince the Inquisition's leadership of something I barely believed myself.

I assumed from Cassandra's admission that the Breach had just been stabilised, but the Herald of Andraste wasn't the Herald yet. I probably wouldn't get the same opportunity to prove myself and I doubted I'd get credited with divine power either. Probably for the best.

Leliana's disbelief stung a little. I knew from the game that Justinia's death had made her cynical, but I expected her not to turn away potential sources of information like this, even if they were as unlikely as myself. I'd have to prove my knowledge with something useful, and useful knowledge was about all I had going for me right now. I knew what had really happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I knew what was going to come to pass in the next few months. And while I'd barely passed my engineering degree, I still knew enough that I could probably give the Inquisition an edge with some modern technology.

My phone would help there, but I doubted I'd be allowed near it before it ran out of charge. If my phone survived, then I prayed the rest of my backpack had too- I always kept a spare charger in there. Without modern electrical components there’s no way I’d manage to make a charger from scratch, but I might be able to find a way to power it.

The portly woman came back after a little while to bring me a small bowl of stew, and embarrassingly enough, had to show me the chamber pot under my bed when I asked where I could use a toilet. I just had to tell her I “wasn’t from around here”, which probably made her think I was a pampered noble with fancy indoor plumbing. Not too far from the truth.

She also helped me change into some Fereldan clothes. My modern clothes weren’t too dirty, but I figured they didn’t want someone traipsing across town in jeans and trainers. They consisted of a white linen shift and a heavy brown overdress, evidently intended to keep me warm here in the Frostbacks. The overdress was made of a heavy brown fabric, and cut to gently curve in at the waist and flare out at the hips. Just like I’d seen on the Fereldan nobles in the game, it had separate sleeves that came up to my armpit and continued to extend up vertically past my shoulder, by way of a metal armour-like shoulder piece attached to the inside of the fabric. There was little ornamentation other than a straight line of gold embroidery following the seams of the body at the front where it zig-zagged out between each fastening, creating a series of diamond shaped cutouts in between. I'd also been provided a thick pair of woollen stockings with garters and some heavy leather boots, ideal for the snow. They were definitely not peasant’s clothes, but not overly sumptuous either. I made the assumption a reasonably well to-do merchant had donated them to the Inquisition, judging from their state of wear.

The portly woman brushed my thick mouse-coloured hair, chattering absentmindedly, and folded my modern clothes carefully. She only went conspicuously quiet when handling the strange modern stretch fabrics, especially my bra with its moulded foam cups. If Origins was at all accurate then I knew they had bras in Thedas, but they must have just been for athletic wear, as I'd only been given a pair of drawers. I asked when I was likely to get taken to the war council, and she pretended not to hear me. She was probably under strict orders not to tell me anything, so I didn’t press her any more.

I didn’t have to wait long though, as a guard in the Fereldan armour came to the door a short time after that. “I’m to take you to the war room, miss.” Said a deep, muffled voice, emanating from the helmet. I nodded nervously and followed them out into the cold.

The sun was setting on Haven, peeking out from behind the mountain. It was much quieter now, with only a few servants and soldiers casting long shadows as they hurried back and forth. It was hard to get a sense of serenity from the beautiful evening though, because from here I could see the Breach.

It was no wonder that people across Thedas would think the world was ending. It was a great wound in the sky, clouds around it spinning and churning. Beams of green light splintered out of it, casting the whole mountaintop in a shifting green glow. Looking at the centre of it was almost like looking at the sun. I found myself slowing to a stop as I gaped at it, a heavy sense of dread settling in my stomach. Seeing it with my own eyes, I finally understood what the Herald of Andraste must feel like- how could one person, anchor or no, aspire to heal the very heavens?

The guard escorting me coughed impatiently, and I hurried to catch up, muttering an apology. We entered the Chantry by way of one of the wicket gates. The inside of it looked very much like it did in the game, only again, a little larger in scale. A few sisters chatted quietly in the cloisters, but other than that it was remarkably quiet. The only other voices came from the small door at the back of the Chantry- the makeshift war room. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I guessed that the council was already in session. The guard knocked on the door and waited for a familiarly lilting, accented voice to bid us enter. They opened the door, and nodded at me to go in.

The war room was not larger in real life- in fact, it felt quite cramped with five people in it. I had already met the very real incarnations of Cassandra and Leliana, but here were Cullen and Josephine as well. This was the first time I had been in a real scene from the game I knew so well, and the feeling was utterly bizarre.

Josephine looked up from her clipboard, holding her quill aloft. She smiled at me in a way that was genuinely kind for all that I could detect. One thing I hadn’t expected from meeting a video game character in real life- if any of it could be expected at all- was how different they looked when they smiled. People’s faces change shape when they talk or smile, a nuance that the animation technology of my world hadn’t quite grasped yet.

Cullen stood against the back wall, looking far less welcoming. He looked exhausted, just like the others, and his jaw was set. I tried not to think of all the times I’d played through his romance storyline. Seeing him in real life made it feel more than a little voyeuristic.

“Good evening, my name is Josephine, I’m the Inquisition’s Ambassador. This is our Commander, Cullen, and you’ve already met Cassandra and Leliana, the Right and Left Hands of the Divine.” Josephine started, either not aware that I already knew, or preserving the formalities anyway. “We’ve called you here because we have a few questions for you.” She continued, making it sound like a tea party rather than an interrogation. “First of all, may I ask your full name?”

“Charlotte. Charlotte Fields.” I replied.

“Good.” She scratched something down on her clipboard. “Now, Miss Fields, I hear from Leliana here that you came here by rather unusual means?”

I nodded.

“Would you care to tell us all what happened, exactly?” She smiled at me comfortingly. I repeated my story for them, slightly more confidently this time. I told them about the way I’d ended up in the Fade, the voice I’d heard, and the way I’d walked into what must have been a rift to escape.

“That’s the last thing I remember before waking up in that cabin.” I finished. Josephine was either fascinated, or excellent at pretending to be interested in what people were saying. Cullen was now openly scowling at me from across the table.

“We found you at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, when you fell out of a rift. Currently there is one other person with us who has fallen out of the Breach. You say that you come from somewhere else? Beyond the Amaranthine Ocean? Do you know if you perhaps come from the same place?” I concluded that Josephine’s fascination was genuine, remembering that she was the only advisor who’d ever wondered about what was beyond the edges of the map.

“Not beyond the ocean- another world.” I said, wondering how to get her to follow. “I know you don’t know what’s beyond the end of the world, but my world has been mapped almost entirely.”

“You know a lot about Thedas, from someone who’s supposedly never been here.” Cullen said. Leliana shot him a significant glance.

“Yes, because a story exists in my world about Thedas." I explained. I took a deep breath. I'd thought of a way I could prove my knowledge while I waited in the cabin, something not even an excellent spy would know. "And that’s how I know that you are carrying a coin right now with the face of Andraste on it, that your brother gave you before you left for the Templars. It is the only thing you took with you when you left Ferelden.”

Cullen turned a rather unflattering colour, and his fellow advisors watched him with astonishment as he reached within his armour and pulled out a coin that he placed on the table. On the face of the coin, a crude carving of Andraste.

“I’m telling the truth. And I want to help.” I said, beyond relief that my gambit had paid off.

Cassandra looked at me, all traces of hostility gone. Instead, her face showed every bit of the grief she must have been feeling.

“Do you know who killed the Most Holy?” She asked quietly.

“I do.”

“Was it the woman who fell out of the Breach?”

“No.”

She and Leliana stared at me, bated expectation on their faces. My heart broke for both of them.

“I don’t know if I can tell you what really happened at the temple. I know a version of this story- it can play out different ways and I can help you find the best one, but in the end, if I wasn’t here, the Inquisition always wins. If I tell you what’s coming, do I risk taking you off of the right path?”

“When has having more information ever hurt?” Cullen retorted. “Leliana, surely you se-”

“She’s right.” Leliana interrupted, eyebrow raised. “Keeping information from your allies can be just as important as giving it. I’ll have to think about this. Don’t be mistaken- this isn’t your choice to make. There may come a time when I will ask you for what you know, and when I do I expect the full answer.”

I nodded, not being nearly brave enough to defy Sister Nightingale herself. At least she was convinced by me now.

Cassandra was leaning over the table, hanging her head. She looked up at me.

“The Inquisition always prevails?” She asked.

“It does. It is the only force in the world that can seal the Breach. You’re doing the right thing, Cassandra." I replied.

Her gaze turned steely.

"I hope you realise how this looks. Two women have fallen out of rifts since the Breach was formed. The first almost sacrificed her life trying to close it. From you, we have no proof of innocence."

This is what I had been afraid of.

"You saw the vision at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. You heard the voice of the person who did this. Did it sound like me?"

Cassandra stood up slowly.

"It did not. I do not believe you did this, no more than I believe the other prisoner did. I only suggest that you be wary."

"I will be." Feeling a little bolder than I had been, I turned to face the Spymaster. "Sister, have you ever failed to dig up information on a person before?"

"No." She responded, curiously. "It can take a while, but there is always something."

"I wasn't at the conclave. Your networks should prove it. Nor was I ever anywhere else in Thedas."

"You speak as if there aren't already ravens out there." She responded with a smirk, crossing her arms. "I thought you knew all about us, from this story of yours?"

"But nothing yet?"

She was silent. Josephine cut in.

"I think that is all we need to address for now. Well, Miss Fields, it seems you are… quite an asset. If you wish to help, I will assign a researcher to see what we can learn from you. In the meantime, I think we can allow you free roam of Haven." She said excitedly, scribbling away on her clipboard.

"Welcome to the Inquisition." Said Leliana, arms still crossed. I made a wild guess at Thedosian etiquette by bowing my head a little before I took my leave.

The guard was still waiting outside to escort me back to my cabin. The sun had gone down while I'd been inside, judging from the beams of moonlight shining through the tiny grille in the wicket gate. The air of the Chantry was heavy with incense and candle smoke, so as I stepped outside the icy breeze prickled against my cheeks. Distant mountains glowed white in the light of Thedas's twin moons, which hung in the air ahead of me, presiding over Haven.


	4. Heroes of Thedas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far: Charlotte, an unemployed engineer from modern-day Earth, has fallen through the Fade into Thedas and joined the fledgling Inquisition. She is still a subject of suspicion, but her knowledge of the future and of modern technology has attracted the attention of the Inquisition's council. Today is her first full day in Haven, and it's time to get her bearings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's left kudos or a comment!  
> I'm trying to get into a regular schedule of posting on Fridays, and I'll try and update if there any breaks as it's still a WIP. I often find it's hard to keep track of fics when they update periodically, so I'll also be including an "events so far" summary with each chapter.   
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'd love to hear in the comments if you have any suggestions for the story! I've been doing lots of research for ways a modern engineer could reinvent useful things in a time without all the tools and materials we have today, and I think I have some cool ideas, but they might need a bit of suspension of disbelief. Usually the times inventions become practical is long after they were first thought of because they take time to develop- but that's no fun!

My first night in Thedas was not a restful one. My straw mattress was surprisingly comfortable, but I tossed and turned. The bed was piled high with furs, but there was a chill in my bones. I was mentally exhausted, but my mind still raced as I thought through every angle of what I should do next.

Getting back home was the first thing on my mind, but I'd have to stay alive long enough to find a way. I had found myself in a dangerous world, but while I stayed with the Inquisition I could keep myself safe. This was all assuming I could keep my presence from wrecking the storyline. Any small mishap could cause the Inquisition to ultimately fail, and then I'd most likely be doomed along with Thedas.

In the meantime, it was all I could do to make the best of being part of the Inquisition. I found it hard enough not to become too invested in protecting the people here, even when they were simply polygons rendered on a screen. Here, they were flesh and bone, thoughts and memories. I made a pact with myself as I lay awake that if I saw the story start to diverge I’d correct it, and if I found any other opportunity to help, I’d take it.

But despite the gravity of the situation, a hint of excitement fluttered in my belly. I'd been magicked into a world of fantasy, like a dream. I was afraid of what was to come, but was the danger of an impending dragon attack worse than a lifetime of working in dismal offices on industrial estates? If I was able to get back, the only member of my family I'd ever known would still be gone, and what friendships I had, I'd left behind when I left university. Regardless, Earth was where I belonged. The thought of leaving everything I knew behind, as unsatisfactory as it was, was too much to think about.

Instead, I listened to the sounds of Haven outside my cabin door. A patrol marching by, the wind whistling, the crackling of campfires. I thought of the here and now, not of the planet I’d abandoned or the dangers of my future in Thedas. That was the only thing that helped me drift off to sleep.

* * *

Haven had a Chantry bell apparently, which I'd never considered, but seemed quite obvious now. Outside, I could hear the sounds of the village starting to stir as 6 chimes rang in succession. Normally I was by no means a morning person, and being awake at 6am would be torture. But here in this world that was at once new and familiar, I was bursting to go outside and explore.

I pulled off the nightdress that had been laid out for me the evening before, and got as far as fiddling with the fastenings of my overdress when the portly woman from yesterday came bursting in. She looked quite surprised to see me up, and immediately came over to help me with my dress. "It goes over like this, and then clicks like that. There we are!" She mumbled, effortlessly clicking the fussy little clasp into place. She looked up at me with a warm smile. "Now, my dear, I quite forgot to introduce myself." She said slowly. "My name is Julie, Lady Montilyet has assigned me to look after you and help you settle in. I'm in the next cabin to your left when you come out, call for me if you need anything." Without waiting for a response, she started putting my sleeves on for me. "Now, Lady Montilyet also said that you're to go to the Chantry at 10. Until then you're free to do as you wish. You lucky thing."

"Do you know what for?" I assumed that it was for my meeting with a researcher, or a chat with Josephine herself, but the vagueness of the invitation made me oddly nervous. Julie snorted a laugh.

"How should I know? I haven't the slightest clue what you important folks have got to do, lot of bickering as far as I can tell."

"Why did you join the Inquisition then, Julie?"

"Join the Inquisition? Inquisition joined us, way I see it. I've lived here in Haven for years, dear. Moved here with my dear departed husband not long after the Hero of Ferelden drove that cult out. Wanted to be near Andraste, he said." This came with an emphatic roll of her eyes. "For all the good she did him. Then the sky blows itself to bits and we're all supposed to pitch in, so I keep my head down and wash linens and I look after posh lasses like you."

"Well, I'm grateful for it" I said honestly. "I'm a little… far from home, and not sure of the customs."

"You can thank me by using the outhouse during the day, now you're not confined any more, I haven't the time nor will to be emptying your pot all day."

"Oh."

"There, dear, now you can go get breakfast from up the top outside the Chantry" She finished fastening my second sleeve, and bustled out of the room. I'd been so distracted by wanting to get out and explore Haven, that I'd barely noticed how ravenous I was. I figured my adventures could be postponed until I'd had something to eat.

* * *

Haven was a little warmer and a little sunnier than it had been the day before. Quite a few people were already up and starting their work for the day. A lanky youth dashed past my cabin, message in hand. A soldier showed off his new green and orange Inquisition armour to his impressed-looking fellows. A strong looking woman pushed a cart filled with pelts up towards the chantry. In the game, Haven's occupants were so static, standing about miming conversations. In reality, I'd never seen a place so alive. Even on Earth, towns and campuses were full of strangers, all of them just passing through to get somewhere else. Here, life was happening out in the open.

I tried not to gawp too obviously at another enormous Qunari that I passed as I walked up towards the Chantry. I wondered if it was possible to tell that I was even more of an outsider than he was. I passed a burned out campfire and a tent, crammed awkwardly into a corner of the walkway. I wondered if it was Varric Tethras’s makeshift lodgings, with a rush of excitement- but there was nobody there right now.

The queue for breakfast was long, but the smell of bacon wafting down from the front of it was heavenly. I twiddled my thumbs while I waited in line, behind a scout with conspicuously pointed ears. It was probably a bad sign that I missed my phone. After what felt like a lifetime, I finally reached the front of the queue, and a harried elven woman handed me a metal plate of bacon and eggs in a bread roll.

There were stools, barrels, and crates strewn about for people to sit on while they ate. The people that didn’t just hurry off with their food sat in clearly delineated groups of scouts, or soldiers, or Dwarven merchants. A quietly chattering cluster of women in chantry robes sat next to a group of Tal-Vashoth mercenaries, who ate in silence. The two groups couldn’t have contrasted more, and aside from the occasional sideways glance from the sisters, didn’t acknowledge each other at all. The whole scene was typical of the fledgling Inquisition as a ramshackle but organised operation. Nothing here was polished, but there was food and seating for everyone, and people from all walks of life were sat down eating amongst each other, bound by a common cause. But, there was no group of displaced engineers from alternate universes to join as far as I was aware, so I sat alone, on a barrel, and tried to eat my breakfast as quickly as possible. I didn’t manage to finish before I was interrupted, though.

“Looks like you could do with some company." Said a cheerful, gravelly voice. I looked up to see a broad, stocky man, only roughly three feet tall. His straw coloured hair was pulled back from his face, and he wore a rich red tunic, embroidered in gold, and cut so low in the front that it exposed a shocking amount of chest hair. "Nice to make your acquaintance, name's Varric Tethras, author. What's your story?" He said, taking a seat on a crate next to me.

The cheesy line broke me out of my state of starstruck awe and I grinned as politely as I could while desperately trying to contain my excitement. My excitement turned to panic, as I realised it was probably unwise to give away my status as some sort of oracle whenever I was asked.

"Well, um, I'm here to, um, advise the Inquisition?" I stuttered. Not the impression I wanted to make.

"Wait," he said, eyes narrowing. "Andraste's tits, you're her—no, the second her." I stared at him blankly. "You think you can fall out of the fade, from another dimension, and nobody will notice?" He muttered under his breath while looking around surreptitiously. "I guess word isn't all around the camp yet, but it will be. Then you can say goodbye to your quiet breakfast."

"Really, people know?"

"There’s not exactly a shortage of gossip around here, but that’s sure one of the more exciting things to gossip about." The dwarf shrugged, and leaned in conspiratorially. "You know I heard you know the future? That's a little outlandish, even for me. Say, you know if there's a way out of this mess?"

"... Yes, there is.” I looked down at my feet. “I can't say for certain how closely this reality will play out compared to what I know though. Or if I'm messing it up by just being here." I said quietly, looking at my feet.

"Shit- you-" He stuttered, lost for words for once. "I was joking, you mean to tell me that part is true?"

"Um, well, all of it is really."

"Shit. All of this keeps getting weirder. I'm going to be out of a job if reality gets crazier than what I can make up."

"I think it's good for business, actually." I said. It was hard to stay nervous when in the company of Varric Tethras, it seemed. "If real life is this weird, then anything you make up is realistic."

Varric barked a laugh.

"Put that way, I should be thanking you. So, how does it work? How do you know?"

He'd like this.

"This place, or at least Ferelden, is like what my world was like about a thousand years ago." I began.

"So it’s history?"

"No, I'm getting to it! We have technology where you can kind of... go inside the story, and be the protagonist and make their choices. And there's one for the story of the Inquisition where you can be- the protagonist of it. Like acting out a play with dolls in a dollhouse almost."

I'd almost slipped and mentioned the Inquisitor, which could have invited some tricky questions. Varric's jaw was hanging open. I went on. "So you could make one about Hard in Hightown where you get to run around a fake Hightown as Donnen Brennokovic, fighting bad guys and making choices of what paths in the story you want to take."

"Wow." Varric shook his head. "So... you could act out a version of the story where you could stop the, uh, magistrate getting killed in the first place?" He said, looking absently towards the Breach.

"You're limited in the choices you have. It's more like choice A, go get a warrant for the Comte's house, choice B, pick the lock and break in. But you'll always have to get into the house, otherwise the story won't go forward. And I imagine… the magistrate would already be dead before the story begins."

"Right. Shame for the magistrate."

"Yeah."

"So whoever wrote the story- how did they know what's going to happen here, now?"

"That's the really strange part." I sighed.

Varric raised an eyebrow at me.

"Apart from literally everything else that's happened!" I corrected myself. "To me- to anyone from my world, it's just a made up story. Nobody knows it's anything more. And these kind of stories, they're really hard to make. Writing a script for all these conversations that can go differently, depending on how the protagonist reacts. Creating each rock and bush in the areas the characters travel to. It takes hundreds of people, and years of work, and that means it usually comes out a huge compromise. It's not as though if one person wanted to make a simulation of this story, they could." I opted to call it a simulation- he was unlikely to know what that meant, but I thought calling it a ‘game’ might not go down too well.

"That's… worrying." He said quietly.

"It really is. It's incredible being here, though." I mused, looking up at the stone face of the Chantry. "The simulation is just a pale imitation of… this. And you."

Varric broke into a wry grin.

"I'm in it? I'm flattered. I always wanted to be a tragic hero, but it's considered tasteless to write yourself into your own story."

"Of course you're in it! You're important to the Inquisition. And this story is actually the third in a series about heroes of Thedas.”

“Heroes of Thedas…” He mused, rubbing his large hand on his stubbled chin. “Like who?”

I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t have predicted how the real life Varric would have this infectious cheerful energy around him.

“Who do you think?"

"Uh, King Calenhad?"

"Think recent history."

"Oh, the Hero of Ferelden. It’s in the title and everything."

"Correct. And the second one?"

He sat for some time, deliberating. I didn't doubt he imagined Hawke his hero- but he might not have considered them a classical one, maybe.

"I've got a hint for you.” I said. “You're in the second one too. In fact, it’s your story."

"Really?" He gasped. I nodded at him. "Well it's gotta be Hawke, if that's so."

“Yes, it’s the tale of _The Tale of the Champion_ , in a way.”

“Huh.” He said, aghast. “I had hoped my books would be popular, maybe get some readers in Orlais or even Rivain. But _another universe_? Well, if I didn't have enough existential angst already, I've sure got it now! So who's the hero of this story?"

"Who do you think?"

"You?"

I choked on the bit of roll I'd just swallowed. I wasn't expecting that answer.

"I'm not in the story. Not in the version I know."

"Ah, of course. The Herald of Andraste. Certainly fits the brief."

"That she does." I looked him in the eye. "You should keep her safe."

He chuckled darkly.

"I don't need visions of the future to know that. Do you know what she’s like?”

“Well, she’s the protagonist, the role you get to fit into. In the simulation, you can make her be anyone, elf, dwarf, Qunari, or human. Mage or warrior or rogue. You get to decide her personality. So I really don’t know. And that’s why I know what really happened at Ostagar, but I don't know who the Hero of Ferelden was either. I don't know if they're still alive."

"And Hawke?"

"I know they're human."

"Ha! Well it's probably for the best that's all you know."


	5. Messiah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far: Charlotte, an unemployed engineer from modern-day Earth, has fallen through the Fade into Thedas and joined the fledgling Inquisition. She is still a subject of suspicion, but her knowledge of the future and of modern technology has attracted the attention of the Inquisition's council. Today is her first full day in Haven, and it's time to get her bearings.

I said goodbye to Varric and set out on my first task of the day: exploring Haven. Since I was already at the top of the village, I decided to start here and work my way down to the bottom, and then see how much the village extended out of the gates. 

The biggest thing of note was that even before the Inquisition's formal creation, the logistical centers of the organisation were already at work. At the top of the village, near where I had been eating my breakfast, I identified the requisitions tent. The flaps were held open, and inside, elves and humans in Inquisition uniforms worked at desks with enormous ledgers, receiving paperwork and packages from an incessant flow of runners. It looked like incoming supplies were to be brought up to the requisitions tent to be inspected and processed, and then stored in one of the repurposed cabins by the Chantry. 

Leliana's "offices", too, were filled with activity. They were a simple canvas sheet propped up on stakes, but very much operational. Leliana was in the middle of it all, barely pausing at all in between receiving reports and giving out orders to her legion of scouts. I wondered which one was Butcher.

I came down the side of the village, past the tavern. I assumed it got a lot busier from lunchtime onwards, as it looked quiet from what I could see through the window. One other thing I noticed was that the ground around the wall of log stakes surrounding the village was disturbed. The snow had been dug away, and soil piled around. Haven had not been a walled village in the first game, and it must have only become so especially for the burgeoning force under its protection.

I came back down by Varric’s little camp, and went down to the row of cabins where I’d been staying and where stalls were being set up for the day’s business. Varric’s admission that the word would get out about my strange circumstances sooner or later made me appreciate my temporary anonymity. Nobody took the slightest notice of me, except for a young elven man with red hair leaning against a wall, who stared a little too long. I wondered if he’d been privy to one of Varric’s rumours. 

I saw Julie chatting with some other women in front of her cabin as they helped her beat the dust out of a rug she’d hung on a washing line. Another woman with a baby on her hip watched from the doorway, laughing. It was pretty busy out here, and judging from the amount of people coming and going, each cabin had lots of people staying in it. Maybe now I was no longer a real prisoner, I’d have more people move in with me to mine.

I walked on to the left, to an area I’d expected to be empty right now. In reality it was lined with tents, full of smoke and smells and livestock and people. Judging from the amount of packed cargo alongside the tents, this seemed to be where merchants were camping. Some dwarves cooked their own breakfast on a little fire in front of their tent, and a smartly dressed elf checked over his inventory with a clipboard. I passed a tall, blonde man arguing with a Chantry sister. Judging from his gravelly voice and irritated tone I guessed that Seggrit had been very faithfully recreated in game. At the end, there were no trebuchets yet, but the area was clear. I shivered. Before too long, there would be an archdemon standing on this very spot.

The main gates were open and I assumed that I would be allowed out, as long as I kept clear of the gateways that blocked the road and the frozen lake that guarded it from all other sides. The unobstructed view was breathtaking, the mountain in the distance shrouded in mist, craggy peak piercing the sky. On this side of the lake, rows and rows of tents lined up all the way to the shore, which was far more distant than I had expected. Thousands of boots had disturbed the frozen ground, and the camp was all mud, smoke, and noise. This was a real army, if a small one. To the right, soldiers practised their swordplay. No sign of their commander. I felt a little girlish flutter in my chest as I thought of it, but squashed it. The situation was far too grave to be nurturing crushes.

“What are you doing here?” Said a familiar voice from behind me, and I almost jumped out of my skin. The feeling of a lead weight dropped into my stomach. I span around, and to my deep discomfort, there was Cullen, giving me a glare that felt like it could make me shrivel up.

“I- I was just looking around.” I said, lamely.

“Looking for what?” He spat. He was still suspicious, and I guessed snooping around the military operation didn’t look great for me.

“I just wanted to see what it was like… out here.” I said, watching his scowl deepen even further. I tried to mentally file away the image of him being a grumpy ass in the hope I could recall it next time I was likely to get shy around him. The game never really gave the impression of how tall and broad shouldered he was, which didn’t help at all. Nor did the fact that I’d only seen him rendered as a slightly janky 3D model, which didn’t set me up for how handsome he really was in the flesh. “Josephine said I had free roam of Haven, is this not still-”

“Fine, fine. But I’ve got my eye on you.” He said, and began to step away.

“I’m sorry about the coin.” I said. He froze in his tracks and slowly turned to face me. “I couldn’t think of a better way to prove I really knew things.”

His expression softened a bit. He looked like he was going to say something for a second, but he just shook his head and carried on walking away. 

“Miss!” A young boy dressed in ragged clothes that looked far too cold for the climate approached me, waving his arm. “Miss, you’ve been asked for up at the Chantry! At Ambassador Monty- Montylay’s office” He said as he arrived, panting. Just as he finished his sentence, the Chantry bell rang out again, 10 chimes in quick succession.

“Oh, I’ll get up there right away.” I replied, trying to give a warm smile. The boy just stared and walked backwards for a little way before turning and running, clearly trying to get an eyeful of the weird prophet lady that had fallen out of the sky like the Herald.

I made my way back up to the Chantry right away, heart rate rising a bit as I wondered what this appointment had in store for me. It was most likely with the researcher that Josephine had mentioned.  _ Or _ , it occurred to me as I passed the people packing up breakfast in front of the Chantry,  _ they could have decided they don’t believe my story after all and are going to lock me up _ .  _ Maybe the appointment was just a cover to stop me getting wise. _

I hesitated a bit as I came up to the doors, but there didn’t seem to be any soldiers there to seize me. So far, so good. Tentatively, I pushed open the wicket gate and went inside. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw that the only person inside was a Chantry sister who noticed me as I came in and gave me a nod.

“Josephine has asked for you. Her office is over there.” She said, pointing at the unassuming door to the back left of the hall.

“Oh- I know.” I said. She gave me a bemused smile.  _ You didn’t have to say that,  _ I thought, as I walked over and knocked at the door.

“Come in!” Called Josephine’s voice.

The candlelit office was larger than I had been expecting, just like everything else here. Josephine’s desk was only part of it, as there were several desks and bookcases on the other side of the room. Each desk was manned by a robed researcher, surrounded by enormous tomes and scribbling on parchment. I spotted what must have been Minaeve amongst them, surrounded by an organised pile of bones, feathers, and jars of god knows what.

Josephine looked up at me, quill in hand as ever, and smiled brightly. It did not seem like I was about to get a telling-off.

“Miss Fields!” She said, getting to her feet and walking around her desk. “I have someone to introduce you to.” I followed her towards a desk where a middle aged man with white hair was inspecting some sort of astronomical diagram. “Lawrence?”

The man looked up at Josephine, and then at me.

“Ah, so this is our traveller!” He said, standing up. “My name is Lawrence, I am one of the Inquisition’s researchers. I have been assigned to work with you on extracting any useful knowledge, and ascertaining what has brought you here.” He smiled tightly, the wrinkles around his eyes creasing. The sound of scratching quills had fallen silent, and I noticed that most of the other researchers had stopped what they were doing to stare at me. Lawrence’s robes were a little more ornate than the others’ and I guessed I was a bit of a prize of a research subject, entrusted to the most senior of the team.

“I’m Charlotte, I hope I can be helpful.” I replied, trying my best to not to sound as alien as I felt.

“I’m sure you will.” Lawrence said, as he led me out of the office, stopping to retrieve a roll of parchment, a quill and a wooden trunk on the way. We went into the war room, and he put the trunk down on the map table somewhere between the Hinterlands and Val Royeaux. He took his time settling down on a stool and getting his notes ready, opening his scroll over the  Free Marches.

“I know you’ve answered this before, but for the formal records, could you describe how you found yourself in Haven?” He asked.

I described the whole journey to him again, this time with more detail about the things that I had seen. He jotted notes on the parchment in a very elegant hand, prompting me with questions occasionally but not reacting much to any of it. I imagined that descriptions of bizzare journeys through the Fade were fairly bread-and-butter for a researcher in Thedas. I had expected him to bombard me with questions about the place I’d come from, but he was meticulous about getting all the details in order. 

“I see.” He said. “And this voice that you heard, did you recognise it at all?”

“No. It sounded like a… Fereldan accent?” I said, although I wasn’t sure if the Southern English sounding accent could be accurately described that way. He nodded. 

“An accent like mine and yours?”

“Yes.”

“I think we have everything we need about your journey here.” He said as he drew a line under what he’d written. “Tell me about where you came from.”

_ What a big question. _

“It’s a planet called Earth.” I started

“A planet?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.  _ Oh my goodness, they don’t know about space or planets. _

“A world.” I clarified. The wrinkles between his eyebrows deepened, but he nodded. “It used to be kind of like this, like Thedas, but about a thousand years ago or more. We now have very advanced technology and medicine, and it keeps getting more advanced exponentially.” I explained.

“Exponentially?”

“Oh, I- Never mind about that. The rate of change gets faster and faster.”  _ Thedas is behind on Mathematics too, that is worth knowing about.  _ “But there’s no magic, no races other than human, and no Fade- or we’re not aware of the Fade.”

Lawrence’s professional veneer broke just a bit, his eyes widening as I spoke.

“No magic, and no races… it must be a very peaceful world.”

“Not really, some of our technology can do more damage than any mage, and we find ways to see differences in each other. Religion, nationality, the colour of your skin.”

“The colour of your  _ skin? _ ” He said, raising an eyebrow incredulously.

“Yeah.”

“I see.” He went back to scribbling on his parchment. “And what kind of technology do you have?”

_ Where do I even begin? _

“There’s… a lot. But we have incredibly precise tools, advanced materials, sanitation,” Lawrence stopped writing and looked up at me. “And we can use that to make machines that can fly, or manufacture- uh, craft millions of identical objects within hours.” His jaw dropped.

“You can fly? Without magic?” He asked, astounded.

“Yes, it’s all using the laws of nature.” I said. 

He nodded and started writing again, shaking his head.

“Anyone can perform any calculation perfectly. You can talk to someone or send them messages instantly wherever they are in the world. You can create perfect pictures of what you see in front of you. You can see and hear what’s happening somewhere else. You can access a huge proportion of the entirety of human knowledge wherever you are. And this is using devices that everyone owns” I listed off the functions of a smartphone as best I could in a way he could understand.

Lawrence was scribbling furiously to keep up, but eventually he finished his sentence and looked back up at me.

“Can you teach us to do these things?” He asked. Suddenly, I felt like a fraud.

“I… can explain as much of it as I know. I know more than most because I’m trained as an engineer, but it’s so complex to make any one of these things work and I don’t know all of it, especially not off the top of my head. We wouldn’t have the materials or the tools here without years of experimentation.”

His face went blank again.

“I thought that you had access to all the world’s knowledge?” He asked.

“Information is sent over the air from devices distributed around the world. I wouldn’t be able to get a signal here.” I explained. I prayed that this wouldn’t be seen as a convenient excuse.

“I would like to go through the items that were found on you when you fell out of the Rift.” He said. I nodded as he opened the trunk on the table and delicately lifted out my belongings. I breathed a sigh of relief as he gingerly lifted out my phone charger, followed by a bottle of suncream, a spiral-bound notepad, a ballpoint pen and a packet of crisps. It was jarring enough seeing such modern objects in this medieval setting, but seeing my mundane, everyday belongings again when I was so lost made me almost want to cry. Finally, he took out a wooden box that I had last seen in this very room. The one containing my phone.

I spent some time talking him through each of the items, and every detail of them was a source of curiosity from the plastic of the suncream bottle to the flawlessness of the paper in the notepad. The ballpoint pen drew great interest, which didn’t surprise me from a man that clearly wrote so much. Lawrence took down some detailed diagrams in the hope that it could be easier for scouts to take notes in the field, the idea being subject to the level of detail that the Inquisition’s craftsmen could produce. Lastly, we came to the box, and the phone, when Lawrence hesitated.

“This morning, I examined this artifact and was able to verify that it was not magical. You say, however, that your technology can do more damage than any magic.”

“Not this item.” I said.

“I will have to clear that with Leliana before I can allow you to handle it. You may explain to me what it does, though.”

There are few offline capabilities in a smartphone, but I explained what it was for and we were able to come up with some possible uses of it. A photograph could identify people or capture information instantly, the calculator would free up a lot of time for logistical staff, and the fingerprint scanner could store secrets much more securely than any lock or code.

“But we won’t be able to use it for every long. It needs charging.” I said.

“And that requires this device?” Lawrence said, inspecting the prongs of the plug on the charger.

“Yes, it’s designed to draw power from fixtures built into modern houses. I need to provide electricity. Electricity is-”

“I know what electricity is.” He interrupted, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. I was baffled into silence until I put it together.

“Oh of course. Lightning magic.”

He cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Electricity is a relatively recent discovery on Earth.” I clarified. “But this is good, a very, very controlled amount of electricity magic could potentially provide the phone with power.”

“I will look into it.” Lawrence almost looked a little excited as he took a note.

The sound of excited voices coming from the main hall of the Chantry grabbed my attention, and I saw that Lawrence had noticed too as he got up and opened the door. At the entrance to the office, Josephine was talking to a brown haired elf.

“She’s awake? Has Cassandra been told?” She asked.

“Yes! She’s on her way here now!” The elf replied, and I recognised the cockney voice of the servant that was with the Herald when they woke.

At that moment, the door of the Chantry opened, and in came the Seeker herself.

“War council, now!” She called across the hall.

Lawrence turned to me.

“You should go.” I took the order, and headed promptly over to the entrance of the Chantry. I gave Cassandra a deferential nod as she passed me, but she was too focussed on barking orders to the servant to notice. Outside, there was complete chaos as the news spread through the camp. It was truly like a messiah was coming.

I stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do with myself when a sour-faced man in Chantry robes pushed past me. He knocked me out of the doorway and I got lost in the bustle of the crowd. Eventually, a couple of soldiers in armour came through, clearing the way for Andraste’s chosen. One of them pushed me back with a metal-clad arm, and I wondered if they knew I was also a fade-sent messiah,  _ except from another flipping universe _ . Then again, without the anchor and access to Google I was probably not much good. I fell back into line beside the Chantry door.

The chattering and whispering in the crowd gradually fell silent, giving way to a hush that hung heavy in the air as we waited. Finally, the Herald rounded the corner and somehow, the silence became even heavier. Almost in unison, every person in the crowd put their fists to their chests in salute and bowed their heads. 

The Herald could have been any unlikely person, an elf, a Qunari, a mercenary, a mage- but this woman looked every inch the sacred hero. She was tall and looked strong, not at all the screen-appropriate slender waif that all human female Inquisitors were in the game. Her brunette hair was pulled back into a smart bun, and she was wearing the classic horrible beige outfit from the game. As she came closer I saw that her freckled, perfectly symmetrical face was set into a blank, unreadable expression. I had been her, so many times, but I was sure that no amount of acting out her story could make me really understand the weight on her shoulders right now.

The second that she walked into the Chantry and the door closed behind her, everyone in the crowd seemed to exhale at once. The silence was broken by an excited hubbub of chattering voices, all picking apart every detail of the Herald’s appearance as a sign of her holiness. This did not seem like a crowd that thought her a murderer just a few days ago.


	6. Sparring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far: Charlotte, an unemployed engineer from modern-day Earth, has fallen through the Fade into Thedas and joined the fledgling Inquisition. Still keeping her knowledge of the Inquisition's story a secret, she has shared a little of what she knows of modern technology with the Inquisition's researchers. Now that the Herald of Andraste has awoken, and the Inquisition has just formally been declared reborn, she may be called upon to help them further.

The next few days were a flurry of activity in Haven as all the logistics to get the officially reborn Inquisition up and running truly kicked into gear. I mostly kept to myself, which was easy enough as I wasn’t required to share my cabin after all. The only person I really spoke to was Julie, who brought me all the latest gossip with each visit. The Inquisition’s declaration had been nailed to the Chantry door, she told me. Ravens had been sent, banners unfurled, uniforms distributed. I saw all this when I left the cabin for my meals of course, but the first news was always from Julie, especially with me keeping inside so much. I figured if I went outside, I’d just get in the way. 

Filling my time without access to all the instant entertainment I could want back on earth was difficult, but I managed to get my hands on a good amount of parchment and a quill. I spent my time jotting down, semi-legibly, everything I could possibly remember about Earth’s science and technology. Quills were not easy to work with, and I hoped, but doubted, that the ballpoint pen experiments would yield results. I wrote down everything from Pythagoras’s theorem, to binary code, to different compositions of steel. I had no idea how much of it was already known in Thedas, or how much of it I’d remembered correctly, but it was all I could do if I couldn’t reveal the future of the story.

I didn’t sleep well, terrified of what was coming. Earth felt increasingly close to armageddon a lot of the time, but it was nothing compared to living in the shadow of the Breach. I had seen what would happen if it wasn’t stopped, and it wasn’t pretty. I had no idea if I was supposed to stay out of it all, or if I was sent because only my intervention could save Thedas. Julie, Lawrence, every soldier and craftsman and washerwoman in the camp, every man, woman and child  _ in this world _ could need me to save them.

It hadn’t passed me by either that somewhere in this camp, masquerading as an unassuming apostate, was the Dread Wolf himself. I had no idea of what would happen afterwards when- or if- the Inquisition prevailed. No doubt my apparent prescience would make him wonder if I knew his true identity. I couldn’t let on, or I could be in even more danger than I already was.

After a couple of days, I was sent for again. It was the little boy from before at my cabin door, who cheerfully told me I was expected in the war room right away. I grumbled to myself as I put on my boots, wondering if planning these meetings ahead of time was an impossibility or if they just liked to summon people at the last possible minute for the drama of it all.

It certainly seemed like drama was on the menu as I approached the war room, judging from the raised voices coming from within. 

“Enough power poured into that mark mi-”

“Might destroy us all! Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so-”

“Pure speculation.”

“I was a Templar. I know what they’re capable of!”

The words sounded familiar, and I figured out what conversation I was about to walk into. All bets were off once I was in there though, a figurative spanner in the works derailing the canon. I took a deep breath, and walked inside. The three advisors, Cassandra and this permutation of the Herald of Andraste were gathered around the table. They fell silent as I came in, and none of them looked happy.

“Ah, Miss Fields.” Josephine greeted me. “We were hoping that your insight could settle something for us.”

I could make a pretty educated guess at what it could be.

“Either.” I said.

“What?” Said Cullen, while the four women around the table looked at me blankly. I kicked myself mentally for blurting it out, feeling horrifically put on the spot. I had been thinking about how I’d answer this question, so I really didn’t think I’d be able to make a fool of myself answering it.

“Oh, both the Templars and the mages have the capability of helping the Herald close the Breach.” I clarified. I had concluded that this information wouldn’t hurt the story, since it didn’t change that they could still only pursue one.

The room was silent. I imagined it was a rare occurrence. I wondered how long they had been arguing about this for, given that they had had time to send for me. It wasn’t yet time to make a decision about it in the game canon, but maybe this was a sign that the game wasn’t a word-for-word depiction of events.

“The Herald?” Asked the woman I’d been referring to. 

“I was... just about to say.” Josephine interceded. “Some are calling you the Herald of Andraste. It is… not well received by the Chantry, but- have you been introduced to Lady Trevelyan, Miss Fields?” It would be unlike her to allow the heated conversation get in the way of the appropriate pleasantries.

“I don’t believe she has.” Said the Herald, giving me a tight smile. She held out her hand. “Evelyn Trevelyan.”

“Charlotte Fields.” I echoed her formal tone as I took her hand. Her handshake was firm and she looked me dead in the eyes.

“I knew you could be of use to us.” She said, seeming to relax. “I can’t believe we argued for so long when someone with all the answers was just at the bottom of the hill.”

“That was an answer that was safe to give you, I guess.” I said. Her eyes narrowed in curiosity, but Leliana changed the subject before I had a chance to get into it.

“Miss Fields has been sharing her knowledge of technical advances from her world, too.” Leliana said. “I’ve read the report from Lawrence. Most impressive.”

I nodded, but it seemed Evelyn wasn’t ready to drop it.

“But why aren’t we asking her everything she knows about what will happen? How could that possibly hurt?” She said. I was naive to think I’d only have to have this conversation once.

“I’ve seen the Inquisition succeed without me every time.” I explained. “I can guide you along the story, but what if I change the course of it? All bets are off.”

She held eye contact for an uncomfortable amount of time, but when nobody else piled on she broke it and shook her head. I couldn’t blame her, really. It was likely that the world could be saved without me, but without her it was truly doomed. 

“We will see.” Leliana said. “For now, we need to gather influence before we can even approach either of the factions.”

“As I was saying, your new title has frightened the Chantry somewhat. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harbouring you.” Josephine said to Evelyn.

“Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt.” Cut in Cassandra bitterly. Suddenly, I recalled the sour faced cleric that forced his way past me into the Chantry a few days before. Could that have been him?

“It limits our options.” Josephine went on. “Approaching the mages or Templars for help is currently out of the question.” 

“We are hoping to increase our influence by expanding our reach into the Hinterlands, where the worst of the mage-Templar war is ongoing.” Said Cullen. “But we will have to wait until our efforts there start to yield results before we can attempt to seal the Breach for good. In the meantime, Herald, there are reports of smaller rifts appearing across all of Ferelden and Orlais. Your role will be to travel to the sites of these rifts and close them before any more demons can come through.” 

This wasn’t right at all, I thought as Evelyn nodded. The story seemed to be diverging before my very eyes. Did the presence of a second arrival from the Fade diminish their belief in the Herald?

“But what about Mother Giselle?” I said. Everyone around the table turned to look at me, and I hoped I hadn’t just made it worse.

“Mother Giselle?” Asked Leliana. “What would she have to do with it?”

Maybe her letter hadn’t arrived yet?

“She’s in the Hinterlands, tending to the wounded near Redcliffe. She should have asked to see the Herald by now.”

“I’ve received no such message.” Leliana said, leafing through some papers on the table.

“Well, she can help with the Chantry.” I said. “And the Herald needs to go for other reasons too. There are potential agents there that only she could recruit.”

The advisors and the Herald were quiet as they considered it.

“It’s risky.” Remarked Leliana, breaking the silence.

“But… important.” Cullen said. I had not expected agreement from him. “If we are to use the Herald as a figurehead she needs to be out there amongst the troops”

“You are right.” Said Evelyn. “I can’t be a rift-closing mascot. If we are to expand the Inquisition’s influence then you have to have me out there being seen to help. Otherwise nobody could ever be expected to believe we can really seal the Breach.”

Cullen nodded.

“We are sending reinforcements in two days’ time. Can you be ready to leave with them?” He asked Evelyn.

“Of course. I could leave right now if you wanted me to.” She said with a smile.

“That wouldn’t be necessary.” He replied, ignoring her joking tone. Maybe I was looking for it, but part of me thought I detected the slightest warmth on his cheeks.  _ Hmph. _

“We can consider which of the factions we should approach for help in closing the Breach in the meantime, if both are capable of it.” Josephine concluded.

“Just one more thing, though.” I interjected. It would be unfair to let them deliberate on this before they knew. “Both sides are in grave danger. Whichever one you choose to approach, the other side will be destroyed no matter what you do.” Every face around the table was aghast.

“They will be destroyed? By what?” Cassandra asked.

“I ...can’t say.” I said. “If I tell you, there’s no knowing where the story will go.”

“Or we could save them.” Cullen said.

“You can’t. I promise.” I replied. He didn’t look convinced.

“So who do we save?” Evelyn asked, distraught.

“Whoever you want by your side. Whoever needs it the most.” I replied.

“And who would you save?” She asked, leaning in, eyes narrowing again.

I considered for a moment. I knew my usual answer when playing the game, but with real people involved, the balance needed recalibrating. “The mages.” I concluded. “They are frightened people who never chose any of this. There are even children amongst them. The Templars are people that chose a dangerous way of life.”

As I looked up, I noticed that Cullen looked absolutely furious. He opened his mouth to speak for a moment, but seemed to change his mind. Without a word, he pushed past Josephine to get around the table, and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. Cassandra looked at me intensely, and suddenly I realised how wrong what I’d just said was. I turned around immediately and went for the door.

Cullen was just ahead of me in the Chantry, and I called after him. He ignored me, and left the Chantry’s front door, leaving me standing there.

How could I have been so stupid? I wasn’t exactly sympathetic to the Templars as an institution, but choice had so little to do with it. I thought of Alistair, probably not atypical as someone who had been handed over to the Templars at an early age with no real desire to become one. Cullen had joined when he was just a boy himself, and now he would be putting his whole life at risk trying to leave. It was really no wonder he’d been so hostile to me, come to think of it. He’d probably figured out that I knew about the Lyrium. How would it feel to have someone suddenly come into your life who knew your darkest secrets without you ever telling them? He wouldn’t even tell Leliana or Josephine as far as the game canon went, only Cassandra, the closest thing he had to a friend he could trust. And now I was here, an omniscient alien from another planet, dismissing everything he’d gone through. I had some serious apologies to make.

I couldn’t leave him without an apology, but I couldn’t bring myself to go back inside and face the rest of the Inquisition’s leadership again. I went back to my cabin and started to pen a letter. It took a long time, trying to scratch away with the quill, and it was even harder trying to summon the words to express how sorry I was. Eventually I gave up and tossed the parchment in the fire. Now that I’d given him some time to cool off, it would be better if I just went and spoke to him in person, even if my words were likely to get as twisted up in my mouth as they did on the parchment.

I found him on the training field, giving his recruits a really hard time.

“Block. BLOCK! Maker, you couldn’t defend yourself against a mild breeze, let alone an enemy mage.”

“Sorry Ser.”

“Don’t be sorry, do it better. Again!” He barked. The skinny recruit in the too-big uniform tried to heft the shield up a bit higher as his partner rained blows down upon him. My heart went out to him. I was about to be in a similar situation, I suspected. 

Awkwardly, I moved around to be in the Commander’s field of view and gave him a wave to get his attention. He rolled his eyes, but came marching up to me only after a minute’s hesitation.

“My office.” He said, cocking his head towards a nearby tent, draped with Inquisition heraldry. I followed him inside. The tent was chilly, and I remembered that this was a man who would quite comfortably sleep in a room with a hole in the ceiling. It was spartan accommodation. In the corner seemed to be where he slept, with an unmade cot, a wooden trunk, an empty armour stand. At the centre of the space was a smart-looking desk covered in maps and missives. He took a seat at the large chair behind it, carved with Chantry insignia, and gave me a hard stare. Standing in front of him like this, I felt even more on the spot than I had been before.

“I’m sorry.” I started. “I’m really, really sorry. What I said in there was wrong, it was a half-baked thought. Your reaction reminded me that many Templars don’t get a choice at all.”

He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. I wondered if that was a technique he’d learned to keep himself calm since Kinloch.

“You know, don’t you?” He said. He looked exhausted. This was not the response I’d been expecting.

“About the Lyrium? Yes, I do.” I said. I thought he’d appreciate straightforwardness. He sighed again, deeply. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair.”

“Well, it’s…” He began. “You know whether I’ll succeed or fail. As well.” He rested his forehead on his hand.

“I don’t know that any better than you do.” I said. He looked up at me, searching my face with his eyes. “The story I know can go one of several ways. But I do know something- there is an outcome where you succeed. It’s possible.”  _ Providing Evelyn doesn’t decide to be an arsehole about it,  _ I thought.

I fancied that I saw the hints of a fire lighting behind his eyes, but in a moment it was gone, replaced by his tough “commander” persona. He simply nodded at me.

“I appreciate the apology. I should get back to work.” He said. The same words in the same tone would have sounded straightforward and authoritative before the conversation we’d just had, but now I’d seen the hint of the cracks in his armour and it came off just a little awkward. 

I nodded my head, and left the tent.

As my eyes adjusted to the bright daylight glinting off snow, I noticed that a crowd was gathering. Out of the watchful gaze of their commander, the troops that had been training had gotten distracted, practice weapons hanging loose at their sides as they gathered around to watch something I couldn’t see. They cheered at the sound of metal crashing against metal. I craned my neck a bit to see what was going on, only to get a good look when a heavily armoured woman fell through the crowd.

Evelyn took a beat as Cassandra stood over her, barely breaking a sweat. She jumped lightly to her feet, her sword still in hand. Cassandra responded deftly, parrying one blow and then another. For all the armour they had between them, they both moved with a certain weightlessness. The Herald wasn’t quite Cassandra’s equal though, and the Seeker almost caught her off guard more than once, drawing cheers and gasps from the onlookers each time. Finally, a feint to the left followed by a slash to the right knocked her well and truly off balance and she was left spread-eagle on her back, Cassandra’s practice sword to her throat.

“Back to training, all of you!” Cassandra shouted, sheathing her sword as Evelyn sat up, rubbing her shoulder and wincing. I approached them tentatively as the crowd dispersed, hoping they would be willing to talk to me after all the nonsense I spoke in the war room.

“Ah. You’re still in one piece.” Evelyn said as she spotted me.

“Yeah, just about. Not that I deserve to be.” I replied. Cassandra huffed, and I was suddenly aware that the two women were both armoured, armed, and privy to my insensitive comment. “Sorry about what I said back there. In retrospect it was nonsense and Cul- the Commander was right to be pissed off.” Cassandra’s forehead wrinkled and Evelyn smirked slightly at my slip-up. I hoped they’d see it was that I knew him as a story character that made me so familiar, not anything that had gone on inside that tent. It had gone better than I’d expected of course, but any chance of future familiarity was well and truly buried, I figured.

“So you’ve spoken to him?” Evelyn asked, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up at me.

“Yeah. I think we’re good.” I replied.  _ Or as good as we can be. _

“I’m glad to hear it. He won’t be too cross with me for inviting you for a drink later then?”

“Oh! I- uh-” I stuttered.

“We should get to know each other if we’re supposed to be saving the world together.” She said as she got to her feet. “You too, Cassandra?”

“I appreciate the offer, but no thank you.” She said.

“I’ll see you at the tavern at 7 bells-ish, okay?” Evelyn asked me, not really waiting for an answer. “Cassandra, another round?”

“If you can manage it.” The Seeker replied wryly. I took that as my cue to leave, and headed back to my cabin before the crowd began to gather again.


	7. Tavern Songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far: Charlotte, an unemployed engineer from modern-day Earth, has fallen through the Fade into Thedas and joined the fledgling Inquisition. Still keeping her knowledge of the Inquisition's story a secret, she has shared a little of what she knows of modern technology with the Inquisition's researchers. She's been invited by Evelyn, this universe's incarnation of Herald of Andraste, for a drink in the tavern- her first chance outside of the war room to get to know members of the inner circle.

The tavern was absolutely heaving. It was put up especially for the Inquisition, I remembered, so while it wasn’t a tavern intended to only serve a tiny village, I doubted any building here save the Chantry would be large enough to accommodate the hundreds of thirsty soldiers. The crowd spilled out into the pathways of the village, leaving only the narrowest path for the night patrol to pass. One such patrol went past as I arrived at the tavern, shortly after the Chantry bell struck seven. They didn’t look pleased about having to pick their way through the crowd, and I doubted having to pass by all their off-duty friends having a great time made them feel much better. 

I squeezed my way in, and for the first time, noticed people noticing me. A few patrons stared or turned to their neighbours to whisper, some of them more discreetly than others. Having a drink with the Herald of Andraste was not going to help much.

I scanned the tavern and spotted her in the sea of people. It wasn’t hard. She was a bit of a focal point. The only other person at her table was Varric, but all the groups around were all subtly angled to face her like a scene from an 18th century painting, catching glances at her when they could. She was laughing at one of Varric’s jokes, her freckled face creasing in the candlelight. It was a surprise that anyone had noticed me when she was in the room.

I pushed through groups of chatting soldiers and scouts nursing pints, and finally maneuvered my way round the bare, muscular back of a Qunari to arrive at the table.

“Charlotte! It’s good to see you here.” Evelyn shouted to me. “Where’s your pint?”

“Oh I didn’t think to-”

“Flissa! A pint for the- for my friend here!” She yelled across the tavern. She could really project. I caught a glimpse of the redheaded barmaid blushing as she nodded.

“You know what?” Varric said, voice raised above the noise. “You should have an ostentatious title too!”

“An ostentatious title?” I asked.

“Like “ _ The Herald of Andraste _ ”” He said, spreading his hands in the air for emphasis. “I mean you can see the future! If you’re gonna be a mythical being from another universe you need a name to match.”

“And “Charlotte” isn’t good enough?” I asked, with a laugh. “I can’t exactly “see the future anyway, it’s more like-”

“Sorry, kid. That’s not nearly pretentious enough.” He said, with a mock stern expression.

“Yeah, you’re not wrong.” Evelyn said. “Where are you from?”

“Well it’s called “Earth”” I replied. It felt weird to say, as if I was being sarcastic.

“ _ The Prophet of Earth _ \- Nah, doesn’t work. Single syllable. Besides, too holy, being holy is rubbish, I wouldn’t recommend it. “Earth” is the name of the world, right?” She asked. “What’s the country, or town name?”

“Britain, or England, or-” I started, before Varric cut in.

“ _The_ _Oracle of England_ ” He said, and Evelyn smiled and nodded enthusiastically. It sounded a bit naff to me, but I guess “England” hardly sounded mystical or exotic to my ears.

“Well if you like it, Varric.” I said.

“It’s perfect!” Evelyn chipped in. “A pint for the Oracle of England!” She shouted at nobody in particular, just as Flissa arrived with the tankards.

I took one and started to drink it, to hide my face from the crowd more than anything. I had not been too optimistic about what medieval ale would taste like, but I should have been. It had a deliciously rich and earthy flavour and I began to feel the warmth of the alcohol spreading through me. No wonder everyone in here was having such a good time.

“So what can I expect in the Hinterlands, O great Oracle?” Evelyn asked.

“Lots of rebel mages and Templars.” I replied, and a flicker of a shadow passed across her expression.

“A given. What else?”

“Bears, mostly. Like, a lot of bears.”

“Huh. I’ll keep that in mind then.” She responded.

“Don’t you mean you’ll  _ bear it in mind?”  _ Varric said with a grin, and received a gentle elbow to the shoulder. “I’m unappreciated around here.” He said to me in a conspiratorial stage whisper. I laughed, but Evelyn’s smile faded quickly. She looked pensive, and it occurred to me it was my fault that she’d be wrestling bears in the arse end of nowhere.

“Sorry. I hope I didn’t cause problems for you.”

“What?” She said, snapping out of it. “Oh, not at all. I’d rather go to where I’m needed most, and if what you say about this Mother Giselle is true then I’m needed in the Hinterlands.”

“But you don’t want to go there?” I replied.

“Is it warmer than the Frostbacks?” She asked.

“Much.”

“Then you’ve done me a favour.” She said with a tight smile. “And Varric too, come to think of it.”

“What? I get to get out of this du-” Varric replied, stopping himself when he got a sharp look from a nearby soldier. Must have been a local.

“Yes, you get to get out of this d _ elightful  _ village, Varric. Cassandra’s coming and so is Solas. They both seem nice enough, but I think the two of them will bore me to death before we even get there. I need my fellow Marcher.” She said, raising her tankard to him.

“ _ Nice? _ Cassandra is nice now?” He replied, mock reluctantly knocking his tankard against hers.

“When you’re not her prisoner, sure.”

“And when you’ve had the chance to knock each other about, I’m guessing?” I chipped in.

“Oh, the sparring definitely helped” Evelyn replied, laughing, although her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes again. “So, can you fight? Do magic? Do I need to knock you about too?”

“No magic where I’m from, and not much reason for combat for most people.” I said. “So no, not much use. Just the uh, prescience.”

“That’s bizarre.” She hesitated for a second before she came out with what had been bothering her, in a lowered voice. “Speaking of… the prescience. Varric says I’m the only person you don’t know everything about. Does that mean, in your story, you don’t get to find out about me before…?”

“No, it’s not like that.” I replied. The tension in her face relieved, just a little. “And I don’t know about everyone, not every soldier. Just some of the prominent characters. And you are prominent! But this is a story that leaves a part for the uh, reader, to play themselves. And that’s you. There’s limited choices, so if the reader chooses to be a human they’re always a Trevelyan, from Ostwick, with family ties to the Chantry and the Templars.” Evelyn’s expression was hard to read. A theory started ticking in the back of my head. “Look, I- do you have a mage relative in the Ostwick Circle?”

“Yes, my younger brother.” She said, expression turning decidedly grim. “He died at the Conclave.”

“I’m sorry. W-” I wasn’t sure if this was crossing a line. “Was his name Maxwell, by any chance?”

She turned to me and nodded. My theory became a little more concrete. Trevelyan had attended the Conclave with relatives, the game said at the start, but the Ostwick Circle sent their own separate delegation. Maybe all the potential Inquisitors were there at the Conclave, each of them with the ability to lead the Inquisition to victory- but all that didn’t chance upon the attack on Divine Justinia had perished. It seemed unlikely that there was a potential male and female Inquisitor from each of the Cadashes, Adaars and Lavellans in the way that there were both Trevelyans. That theory would have been discounted that she only had one relative in the Circle. But what if there was one for each origin, with the coin flip of their gender being performed at birth? 

This was a theory to keep to myself. If Evelyn was as devout as her family, she would need the idea that she was chosen by Andraste to drive her. And maybe she was- but this made it look far too much like a lottery to give her much faith that she was meant to do this.

“It’s fine.” She said, finally. “Seems you know things about me after all.” She gave me another tight smile. “And I know so little about you. We’ve got to stick together, us fade-walkers. Tell me about where you’re from.”

I could see that I’d have to answer this question a lot. I spent the rest of the evening describing city streets, shops and modern homes, surrounded by a growing crowd and an ever increasing collection of empty tankards. I tried to ask them questions back, but tales of Kirkwall and Ostwick didn’t seem to warrant as much discussion.

“I’ve got f- three older siblings.” Evelyn was telling me, correcting herself as she did so. “Oscar, the oldest, is inheriting everything, of course. Second is Evan, he’s just kind of kicking around in case Oscar dies childless. I’m serious, nobody would ever say it, but that’s nobility for you.” She said, reading my horrified face. Varric just nodded knowingly. “Next youngest is Marianne, she’s a Templar at the Circle. And I was supposed to go into the Chantry. Guess that’s not happening any more. I wanted to be a Templar, really, but mother and father wanted at least one pawn in the Chantry. Lucky for Marianne, she got to be with Maxwell.”

“You don’t strike me as a likely Chantry sister.” Remarked Varric.

“You’re not the first to tell me. Serving the Maker is my duty, I have no doubt of that, I just wanted to do so with actions rather than words. But enough of that, it’s dull, I’m sure.”

There were less people in the tavern now, but it was much rowdier than when we arrived. Last call in the club but before they turn the lights on vibes. It must have been getting late, but after a few pints it became very tricky to pick out the sound of the Chantry bell over the din. 

“So do you have taverns, where you come from?” Asked Varric.

“Yes, we call them pubs most of the time.”

“And you have tavern songs?” He asked.

“Maybe in some places, and we did in the past.” I replied. “But nowadays-”  _ Strange turn of phrase. Was I outside the flow of time on Earth now?  _ “Well, we can reproduce any sound at any time, and make new sounds using our technology. Music is a bit less… democratised than it used to be. You’re likely to have music playing in the tavern that was played somewhere else in the world at some time in the past and is being reproduced there, so you don’t have to make your own music.”

Varric and Evelyn looked blank.

“I didn’t understand a word of that.” Varric said.

“Not so many tavern songs where I’m from any more.” I clarified. “Lots of the old songs still survive though, and sometimes people will sing modern songs. But the modern songs don’t really make sense with just the vocals though.”

“We’ve got a lute and a person to play it!” Evelyn said, and I craned my neck to see she was pointing towards a rosy faced, dark haired woman in the corner of the room. Maryden, presumably.

“M-maybe another time. I could sing an old folk song, I guess.” I replied.

“Please! Sing something!” Varric said loudly, and the straggling revellers in the tavern turned around to stare. Whispers of “ _ She’s going to sing!”  _ and  _ “Sshh! Listen!”  _ went around.

It was a big audience. But fuck it, I thought, I was already drawing enough attention. Which one to sing? Might as well go with an old classic.

“ _ Are you going to Scarborough Fair? _

_ Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme _

_ Remember me to one who lives there _

_ She once was a true love of mine _ .”

I was no great musical talent, so my voice was a bit weak and a bit wobbly as I went through the verses, making a wild guess at the bits of the lyrics I couldn’t remember. I sang the last line a little more slowly, to a rapt and silent, if a slightly wavering crowd. I should have chosen a more cheerful song, I was thinking as the last note faded out, but only a moment’s silence passed before the applause began.

“That was lovely. Sounds like old Fereldan songs.” Evelyn remarked as the chatter of the crowd began to ramp up in volume again.

“Well historically, my country is similar in culture to Ferelden.” I said. “That song is very old.”

“What about those songs from your time then?” Varric asked.

“Well I can think of a drinking song, come to think of it.” I started. “It’s for when your friend is starting to drink a full drink. Goes like this:

_ We like to drink with-  _ and then you say the person’s name, so  _ We like to drink with Varric, ‘cause Varric is our mate. And when we drink with Varric, he gets it down in eight- _ And then you count down to zero and the person you’re singing at has to finish their drink by the time you reach zero.”

“Or else what!?” Evelyn asked, aghast, as Varric cackled.

“Loss of street cred.” I replied, forgetting how much I was having to edit my vocabulary here. “A stain on your reputation. It’s popular with university students.”

At that moment, a pint arrived for me.

“Well, time to save your, er, street cred.” Varric smirked.

“No!” I cried as it dawned on me what he was about to do.

“ _ We like to drink with Charlotte, ‘cause Charlotte is our mate. _ ” The both of them started in unison, banging their fists against the table. I had some strong regrets about teaching them the song, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret the whole evening. Their faces were flushed in the candlelight and Evelyn’s perfect bun was coming a tiny bit loose. Her polite smile was replaced by a wide, beaming one. I wasn’t normally one to bow to peer pressure, but coming from Evelyn, the stupid song was practically a divine directive. She would have made a terrible Chantry sister. “ _ And when we drink with Charlotte, she gets it down in eight! Seven!” _

I started to chug down the ale. More patrons of the tavern were joining in now, probably with no idea what the countdown was for but wanting to get in on the fun. “ _ Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One!” _

I finished the drink on the count of two and slammed the tankard on the table, to the rapturous applause of the whole tavern. The world started to spin, and for a moment I thought I was about to wake up back in my bed on Earth. Strangely, the thought gave me a sinking feeling in my chest, but it started to rise again. Rising more. Not a feeling- oh no, was I about to-

I let out a tremendous, rumbling belch and the crowd erupted in cheers again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write some fun shenanigans since everything's been rather serious so far, but jeez, fun shenanigans is a lot harder to write than angst. Hence this chapter being a bit late and a bit shorter than usual. I've tried to preserve Charlotte's modern southern British voice, so I hope that it doesn't stick out too much, just underlines that she's Not From Around Here. I'm looking forward to her sharing more Earth culture in future chapters- what modern songs (from the last 50 years or so) would you share with the characters of Inquisition?


	8. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far: Charlotte, an unemployed engineer from modern-day Earth, has fallen through the Fade into Thedas and joined the fledgling Inquisition. Still keeping her knowledge of the Inquisition's story a secret, she has shared a little of what she knows of modern technology with the Inquisition's researchers. They have also been studying the modern day belongings that were on her when she fell into Thedas, including her phone, but Leliana won't let her near it until she has proof that she can be trusted with the mysterious device.

I was not feeling my best when I woke up. The fire was lit and its warmth felt more oppressive than comforting. Julie must have been in to light it, and I must have slept through the visit entirely. Cracks of late-morning light were coming through the door and the shuttered windows. I fumbled to pull the furs off myself, and my head swam as I did. I at least felt better than I’d expect, given the number of drinks I’d had. Maybe the ale was gentler on the system than the cheap vodka I was used to.

I was getting used to my Fereldan noble clothes by now, but the clasps were evading me again in my current groggy state. I clipped the metal over my finger and broke the skin.  _ Fucking hell. _ I brushed my hair with the other hand while sucking the end of my finger to stop me bleeding everywhere. It was a pretty bad start to the day, but a bright feeling floated in my chest like a balloon.

_ The Oracle of England.  _ They’d given me a title, however naff and however informally. The future Inquisitor and one of the Inquisition’s most influential figures saw me as someone that had a place here. I got up from the bed and walked over to my desk, where pages and pages of my notes were still laid out from yesterday. My contribution. I opened the shutters of the window over the desk and looked out on Haven’s makeshift market. All the comings and goings were a machine, and I was a cog in it. An anomalous, alien cog, but a cog nonetheless.

I doubted there was still any breakfast to be had, but I couldn’t see for certain from here. I checked I didn’t look as awful as I felt in the battered mirror one last time, before stepping out the cabin door. That’s when the dead bird fell. 

A black blur, and then a thump. The poor thing landed spread out on its back, black feathers sticking out at awkward angles, feet in the air. Nobody else seemed to notice, all too preoccupied with the market, or their conversations, or navigating the hustle and bustle of the crowd. I didn’t really want to be the one to move the bird, but I didn’t want it to get stepped on. I already felt nauseous enough. 

I bent down, and noticed this was no ordinary bird at all. Attached to its leg was a tiny metal capsule, and a little metal tag with the words “CAPTAIN SNIPPY” stamped into it. This was one of Leliana’s messenger ravens, I realised, and my heart started beating a little faster. The capsule undoubtedly contained a note, and the note very probably contained information that should not fall into the wrong hands. I unattached the capsule and dithered over what to do with the bird.  _ Gross.  _ Julie’s broom was still propped against the front of the cabin, so I held it upside down and pushed the little feathery body out of the way of the foot traffic at least. I hoped Leliana wouldn’t find out I poked one of her dead agents with a stick.

Holding on to potential state secrets was an uncomfortable feeling, so I quickly wove my way through the crowd and up towards Leliana’s headquarters. When I arrived, she was in an animated conversation with her agents, and seemed to be in an unusually good mood. She spotted me and smirked. 

“Ah, the Oracle graces us with her presence.” She said. I felt my cheeks flushing. “It’s a good title, you shouldn’t be embarrassed. Varric knows how to create a mythical figure people can look up to.”

“And you want people to look up to me?” I said.

“I’ve looked into your background, as you said. I have found nothing. There is no trace of you anywhere from Rivain to the Anderfels. It seems you are who you say you are, and chosen ones with mystical powers are good for public support. Once we can lose the condemnation of the Chantry, of course.” Her smile faded quickly as she spoke. It seemed her good mood was brittle in times like this. “Did you need something?” She asked.

“I’m afraid I found one of your birds, outside my cabin. It’s… dead.” I held the tag out towards her. I didn’t like being the bearer of bad news, and I didn’t enjoy watching her face fall further into a distraught expression. 

“Oh! Captain Snippy!” She said softly as she took the tag from me. “He was getting old, but I thought he had some time left in him yet. Did you move his body?”

“Just to keep him out of the way of people, no more than that. He’s still by my cabin. Here’s the letter he was carrying too.” I handed the capsule over. Her eyes flicked up to me for an imperceptible moment before she opened the capsule and read the note curled up inside.

“Did you read this?” She asked.

I shook my head.

“Very well.” At that moment, the same red headed elf I’d seen around the village came into the entrance of the tent. Leliana didn’t greet him, but he nodded at her and she nodded back, dismissing him. All traces of distress had vanished from her face. What had I just walked into? “Come with me.” Leliana said, beckoning for me to follow.

“The last time we spoke, we discussed the possibility that you could power this device using electricity magic.” Said Laurence. After a short detour to the research office to collect him, Leliana had led me here, to the war room. My phone had been placed gingerly on the map table as if it were a holy relic. It seemed Leliana had decided to allow me near it after all. How could me finding a dead bird have prompted this? Maybe it was less about the dead bird, and more about the letter?

“Luckily, we have an expert on the subject here at Haven. I would be interested to see if you know of him too.” Leliana said.

At that moment Solas walked in, and all the muscles in my body tensed. I glimpsed the red-headed elf behind him as the door closed.  _ How would somebody with no idea that this was the Dread Wolf react? _ I’d eliminated the idea of pretending I didn’t know of him at all, that would be a hard lie to keep up. But he didn’t know when or how he would be discovered. I gave him a polite smile as best as I could.

“Solas.” I said. “It’s good to meet you.”

“And you, Miss Fields. It seems both our reputations precede us.”

I nodded, trying to look delighted instead of terrified.

“This is the device?” He asked, peering over at it.

“Yes. We’ll need the charger too.” I said, and Laurence handed it to me.

“May I?” I asked, looking to Leliana. She nodded, and I picked up the phone. I smiled as I turned it over in my hand. It was comforting, the cracked plastic case printed with a floral design in hot pink and orange. Even the design was comforting, I hadn’t seen such vibrant colours since I’d arrived here. I pressed the on button and the screen lit up. It still had charge, nine percent. Blasting lightning at the phone was unlikely to produce the required results, so approaching it in the right way here was essential. I needed a direct current of precisely the right voltage.

“Solas, could you explain how electricity magic works to me?” I asked. 

“What do you already know of the Fade?” He asked.

_ Was this a test? _

“I’ve been there, for a start. It’s, uh, scary.” Everyone around the table smirked. “I mean, I know more than that. I know it’s where you go when you dream, spirits live there, and mages draw their power from it.”

“Quite right.” Solas continued. “Magic is essentially the practice of acting as a conduit of the Fade. In the Fade, physical reality can be reshaped using mere willpower. Magic is the act of reaching across the veil and altering reality in the physical world in the same way. For fire magic, the air at a chosen point can be teased into erupting into flame.” He twisted his hand around and ignited a tiny spherical flame between his fingertips. The light glowed onto his face, casting deep shadows. “Once ignited, it can be transferred from one point to the other.” He made the orb dance across his fingers.

_ So he’s exciting the particles in the air? _ I thought.  _ Fire needs fuel, but this looks more like superheated air. The glow could come from dust in the air igniting. _

“Frost is a more complex process, first drawing the potential for it from the air and then calming it.” He let the flame go out and drew his fingers together into a fist. He opened his hand, and lying on his palm was a perfect sphere of ice.

_ The potential… is he pulling vapour from the air? Is there enough of it? Is he connecting hydrogen and oxygen molecules into water? “Calming” the water particles would definitely make them freeze. _

“Electricity is not a substance- it is a connection, a release. The mage must choose a start and end point for a bolt of lightning.” He let the sphere of ice melt and fade into nothing, and held both his hands in front of him, palms facing each other. “By drawing the energy from the end point to the start point, it can eventually be released back, like a spring, in the form of-” A large cracking sound made me jump, and there was a flash of light as a lightning bolt jumped between his hands.”

“You’re moving the electrons!” I said, forgetting to keep my thoughts quiet this time. The three people round the table looked at me oddly. “I’ll explain, uh, later.” I clarified to Laurence. “But you’re creating a negative charge at your start point and a positive one at the end. Is it easier to do magic close to you, Solas?”

“Yes.” He replied.

“Is that why mages throw fireballs? Transferring the heat is easier than creating it, so it’s easier to create it near you and throw it, in a pinch, than it is to simply have the enemy burst into flames?”

“Immolation is possible,” He said, “but more challenging, as you say. What does that have to do with electricity magic, if I may ask?”

“Oh, nothing.” I replied, flustered. “I just got carried away. The electricity magic- is it possible to create a steady stream of lightning? Or pass it through something? Like- Laurence, could you tear a small strip of parchment off?”

“This is good quality parchment, Miss Fields.” Laurence said, shaking his head, but did as I asked anyway.

“Pass it through this, and burn it using electricity?” I asked Solas, passing the parchment from Laurence to him.

He pinched it between his finger and thumb, and it crackled and ignited, falling into a pile of ashes.

“A stream of electricity is not easily done at all.” Solas said as he rubbed the ashes on his fingers onto his robe. “Keeping the energy drawn to one place while spontaneously releasing it is nearly impossible.”

_ There goes that plan, then. _

“Unless you have a powerful enough mage.” He lifted his forefinger and thumb and stretched a crackling, glowing thread between them.  _ What an insufferable showoff. _

“Yes! That’s exactly what we need. A direct current! Never mind!” I interrupted myself as I got curious looks from Laurence again. “How gently can you do it?” I asked. He smiled, and let the thread into near imperceptibility. “Good! We need to cut this wire, and strip the coating from it.”

Leliana of course had a sizeable knife on her, and following my instructions and a scary amount of dexterity, managed to cut the charging cable in half, and strip enough of the coatings to get the three distinct wires out of it, brown, blue, and green.

“This is risky, too much power can damage the phone, but I need you to draw the energy back to here from here as gently as you can to start.” I plugged in the charger and showed him the brown and blue wired. He nodded, took it from me, and put his finger and thumb on them. His brow furrowed in concentration ( _ Probably fake, _ I thought as I remembered who he really was.).

The phone didn’t respond. My heart sank.

“More power?” I asked quietly.

“I will increase it slowly.” He replied. 

We waited for what seemed like an eternity, all of us leaning over the table. It only dawned on me how bizarre the scene was. A heavily armoured spy and robed scholar in a temple in a fantasy land, watching a literal ancient god use his magical powers to  _ charge my phone. “Hey, have you got a charger with you? Nah, but I got an elvhen god, will that do?” _

Suddenly, the phone gave a little chirp.

“There! That’s it!” I shouted. An icon of a lightning bolt in a battery, pretty funny given the context, flashed up on the screen.  _ Charging rapidly,  _ It read.  _ 10 minutes to 100%.  _

“It seems we may be able to make use of this device after all, Miss Fields.” Solas said, looking up at me. I couldn’t help but grin back.

I walked back to my cabin, the gears in my mind whirring as I thought of all the possibilities now that I had a proper power supply- as long as Solas was here. The phone had been placed in the care of Laurence’s team of researchers for the time being, but I hoped it would be returned to me eventually. Leliana allowed me to have my ballpoint pen back now the craftsmen charged with recreating it had taken their notes and diagrams. I wondered what made her trust me. 

Could it be that I took the note back to her? How could she be sure I hadn’t read it? I thought of the red haired elf’s silent communication with her back in the tent. I’d seen him around a few too many times for it to be a coincidence. All the clues came together in my head as I rounded the corner towards my cabin. A layer of undisturbed snow lay on all the roofs in Haven, except for one. On my cabin roof, directly above the spot where the bird had fallen, was a scuffed set of footprints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a plot element I like to call Sciemce: It's Close Enough (TM).   
> I originally had a complex explanation for alternating current by magic, on the basis that phone chargers are complicated and require alternating current. But it turns out a phone charger actually really does is turn alternating current into direct current, so if of course direct current was easy to produce with magic, that could be applied directly to the pins in the charging port. But! Those pins are tiny and you can't really tell which ones are the right ones and if you get it wrong, you can wreck the phone. So, just get at the wires! You could also do it with lemons or potatoes, like a potato clock, but you would apparently need about five hundred. 1 Solas = 500 lemons. Don't try this at home tho this is still a dragon age fic lmao.  
> I had fun writing this, expect more snippets of Sciemce: It's Close Enough (TM) throughout. But this is also a Cullen/OC fic so also expect Romamce: The Slowest of Burns (TM), coming eventually.
> 
> FYI I'm going to be doing updates mostly on Saturdays rather than Fridays, I've found that works a bit better.   
> And thanks for all your lovely comments! They have kept me going.


	9. Bearings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far: Charlotte, an unemployed engineer from modern-day Earth, has fallen through the Fade into Thedas and joined the fledgling Inquisition. Still keeping her knowledge of the Inquisition's story a secret, she has shared a little of what she knows of modern technology with the Inquisition's researchers. Some parts of the story seem to be missing though, and she has had to intervene to get the Herald to meet Mother Giselle in the Hinterlands.

The skies were clear over Haven on the morning that the Herald of Andraste left for the Hinterlands. She had her new Inquisition armour on, the scalemail shirt glittering in the sunlight like the snow underfoot. It was an impressive convoy. At the front were the four from the Inner Circle; the Herald, Cassandra, Varric and Solas. A considerable number of soldiers and scouts formed the body of the group, and at the back were the heavy carts and packhorses, laden with camping supplies.It seemed that almost everyone staying in Haven was gathered outside to see them off. I was in the thick of the crowd, but people gave me a wide berth. Without a uniform or any distinguishing features I still wasn’t noticed all the time, but it was happening more and more. People weren’t sure what to make of me when they did.

An unintelligible shout went up from the front of the convoy, and it started to move. I saw Evelyn give the crowd a final wave and a smile before setting off. The onlookers cheered, and I could feel a sort of lightness in the air. Around me were smiling, laughing faces. In a world turned upside down, this first mobilisation was a sign of hope. Something was being  _ done  _ about the Breach. Everything would all be alright.

The crowd began to disperse as the travelers passed through the gate of Haven and out of sight, but I stayed for a bit longer. Before I went back to the hustle and bustle inside Haven’s walls, I took a moment to feel the sunlight on my face and the crisp air of this alien planet in my lungs. I’d been so preoccupied with my technological documents that I hadn’t really taken the chance to take a walk as far as the woods outside of Haven and see all the strange plants and creatures out there. I’d shown pieces of my world to the people here but I hadn’t seen even the little of theirs I was allowed to explore. 

By the time I opened my eyes, the whole convoy was gone, except for one cart. A wheel had broken and it had collapsed at the back, spilling potatoes all over the road. The horse yoked to it was stamping impatiently and its accompanying soldier was working to detach it.

I considered leaving to get back to my documents, but it occurred to me just as I was turning to leave that this might be an opportunity. My cabin could be pretty stifling, and I could do with getting out and seeing where I could actually help with the Inquisition anyway. I picked my skirts up out the way of the churned snow and mud and started to make my way towards the cart. I didn’t manage to arrive before Cullen did.

“Where did this cart come from?”

“Requisitions procured them from some of the farmers at the foot of the mountain, Ser. They’re quite old and not really built for this, but they’re all we’ve got.” The soldier reported, while passing some of the sacks from the cart’s load off to some of the villagers that had come up to help. 

“Take these down to the stables, we’ll load up one of the spare carts.” Cullen instructed them. As he turned around to gesture toward the stable, he spotted me and a look of discomfort crossed his face. “Fields.”

“Ser.” I responded. “Can I help?”

“Well, we have to shift this cart down the hill, but I think we’ve got it.” He looked me up and down, and I remembered I wasn’t much use in my noblewoman’s dress. He took off his fur trimmed cape and joined the soldier at the back of the cart. “On three. One, two, three!” He ordered, and the two of them groaned as they tried to lift it up. They just managed to get it off the ground and a few steps back, but it quickly got too much and they dropped it. Cullen stood up and stretched his shoulders out, red-faced, while the soldier bent double, panting. 

“...I’ll help you.” I cut in. I couldn’t bear to stand here and look on while they struggled. I bent over, picked up the hem of my skirt, and gathered it together. I twisted it round and tried to tie the fabric up, but found it too thick to fasten in a knot.

“What are you doing?” Cullen asked when he saw me messing about with my skirt. His face went an even deeper shade of puce.

“Getting ready to help.” I replied. Luckily, Julie had pulled my hair back into a braid today and tied it with a lace, so I pulled it loose and gathered up the bundle of fabric again, securing it with the lace. I was left with a much more manageable skirt length, leaving my boots and stockings exposed, and I could just about bear the cold breeze getting under my skirts to sting the bare legs above my stockings.

“We could have gotten another soldier to help, you know.” The soldier said, quietly appalled.

“Well I’m already here. Come on.” I said, and feeling a little bold now I’d managed to reduce these two burly men to stammering idiots, nudged Cullen to move up. He gave me space but avoided eye contact entirely. I bent my knees, and took hold of the back of the cart. “One, two, three!” I said, and the two men lifted with me. It was extremely heavy, but with the three of us, manageable. We walked it backwards down the hill, guiding it towards the stable.

I was feeling the strain in my muscles long before we reached the bottom of the slope, but I stubbornly held on, desperate not to be the one to break. Eventually, we set it down in front of the smithy. I leant back, gulping down cold air and feeling my hair falling out of its braid and sticking to the sweat on my forehead.  _ Why did I just do that? They could have gotten someone who didn’t have to practically undress to help. _ Maybe it had something to do with the dismissive look Cullen had given me when he pointed out I wasn’t about to be much use.

“Well- ahem.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you for your help.” He said awkwardly, eyes trained approximately on the top of my head.

“Oh, uh, no problem.” I responded. I quickly leant down and pulled the lace loose, letting my skirts fall back into place.

“These wretched carts.” I heard someone say, and turned to see a bald, bearded man approaching out of the smithy. “They’re designed for hay bales, not tents and furniture. And you’re just going to keep getting this problem, if you’re going to keep sending them across Thedas and back.”

“What kind of carts do they normally use for this sort of thing?” I asked.

“Well, Miss...” He started, curiously looking back and forth between me and Cullen.

“She’s… an engineer.” Cullen explained, and the smith looked even more confused. Judging from the amount of strong-looking women in leather aprons in the smithy, craftswomen weren’t too unusual here, but I guessed here an engineer looked a bit more like them and a bit less like me.

“They ...don’t, largely.” The smith said to me. “Sending supplies far and wide, that is. Armies going long distances just bring a lot of packhorses, a lot of carts, and a lot of carpenters. Occupying forces requisition their supplies locally. The only vehicles that are meant to travel long distances like this are Orlesian transport carriages, but I don’t know if it’s the smaller load or some mechanical jiggery pokery that makes ‘em survive the distances.”

“Okay.” I said, squatting to inspect the damage. The wheel had cracked and come loose from the metal cap on the axle. “I think I might have some idea how the Orlesians manage it. Depends what tools you have though. May I take a look around?” I nodded toward the smithy. 

“I can vouch for her.” Cullen said, giving me an unreadable side eye. Suddenly the smith’s appearance and voice just clicked into place in my head. “Harritt, right?” 

“Yes” He replied, taken aback. Suddenly it seemed to click with him too. “Wait… you’re  _ her  _ aren’t you? The one from- from the-” He just let his jaw drop for a second. “I’ve been reading your papers! Incredible stuff! Well, Miss…”

“Fields.” Cullen interjected.

“Miss Fields. It’s an honour to meet you. Come in, we’ve been given some tools from Orlais you might have some idea what to do with. And come to think of it, we’ve been working on something for you.”

* * *

Harritt excitedly showed me around the smithy, which was just a bit more like a gigantic open workshop. Along with the forge throwing out heat like nobody’s business, they had hand-cranked lathes, boring machines and drills. 

“These are the machines from Val Royeaux” He said. “Capable of threading bolts and cutting steel. Clockmakers’ tools mostly. Bloody hard work to turn though. That’s what we’ve got the apprentices.” He gave a lad of maybe sixteen or so a clap on the shoulder. The young man had been standing by, staring at me like I had two heads. “You know how to use these?” Harritt asked me.

“Not very well. These kind of machines mostly operate themselves where I come from.” I explained.

“Incredible.” He said, shaking his head. “Well, we’re at a lull in production now the army’s mostly outfitted. Simon here is at a loose end, he can help you build whatever you have in mind.” He gestured to the boy, who went pale and nodded. “Speaking of which.”

Harritt led me to a bench with a set of smaller tools on it and a diagram pinned over it. A familiar diagram. “We’ve been working on this.”

Placed on the middle of the bench was what I mistook at first to be a piece of copper tubing.

“The ballpoint pen!” I said. I picked it up, and inspected it. They hadn’t bothered with the clicking mechanism of course, but they had the canister, the tapered end, and the ball. It was much coarser than the pen I’d brought from Earth, but pretty impressive nonetheless. “How did you make the ball so round?” I asked.

“That was Nora’s idea.” Harritt replied, pointing towards a muscular woman hammering at the anvil. “We used lead. We melted it and dropped it from a height into a bucket of cold water from the lake. I was dubious, but it worked. Some of them came out perfectly round. Lead’s too soft, but we could use the round ball to make a sand mould and cast that out of steel. Bit of polishing, and as the Orlesians say-  _ voila _ ”

The end of the pen dripped a bead of ink out and it splashed on the table.

“We’re still experimenting with the ink.” He said quietly.

“Ingenious!” I said. I was hardly needed here if the engineers they had were this smart.

“Well, I’ll let you get to work. Simon’s at your disposal.” The boy shuffled towards us as Harritt mentioned his name. He was a lanky black haired youth with a few straggly hairs on his top lip. “Oh, and I know you’re not using the machines yourself but you might need this at the least.” He reached into a metal trunk and pulled out a leather apron and pair of gloves.

I ended up removing my separate sleeves entirely and wearing the elbow-length gloves over my shift sleeves. That would be my first request from requisitions, a proper, practical Inquisition uniform. I regretted pulling my braid loose, but I managed to tie my hair back into a reasonably secure ponytail.

“Alright, Simon.” I said to the boy, smiling in an attempt to calm his nerves. “Let’s go through what I have in mind.”

* * *

Simon did relax a bit once we were talking his language- steel and schematics. I scribbled down a few diagrams, and got him to confirm that we could indeed manage the components we would need for roller bearing.

The rest of the morning was spent watching him make the bearing’s outer race and boring the inside of the wheel to fit. It was indeed hard work when I insisted on turning the crank while he operated the boring machine. Quite tedious too, as he was still intensely shy of me and not inclined to make conversation. Eventually, we heard a woman’s voice from the open half of the workshop.

“Feedin’ time, lads and lasses!” Said the woman, and the rest of the smiths and engineers put down their tools. It was one of Julie’s friends, bearing a tray filled with small loaves of bread and chunks of cheese. Everyone found somewhere to sit and eat, and I went to join Simon with mine. Maybe this was my opportunity to get to know the lad.

“Where are you from, Simon?” I asked.

“Lake Calenhad.” He replied, shrugging.

“So not far from here.” I remarked.

“No.”

“How’d you learn the trade? And how to use the Orlesian machines?”

“I’m an apprentice.” He replied. “My master worked with Orlesian clockmakers.”

“Is your master here?” I asked.

“No.”

“Why’s that?”

“He said he’s too old. He can’t travel. He just sent the machines to help.”

“I’m sorry. Must be lonely, being here on your own.” I said. Simon looked directly at me for one of the few times today. He was at an awkward stage, but he had bright blue eyes and thick black hair. He’d grow up to be quite handsome, I guessed.

“Yes, it’s a bit strange.” He said.

“I’m here on my own too.” I said.

“I- Is it true? That you came from another world?” He blurted out, the question he’d been holding in the whole time.

“Yes.” I replied. His eyes widened.

“What’s it like?” He asked.

“What’s Lake Calenhad like? You go first. This place is new to me too and I’ve hardly seen it.”

He scoffed.

“Boring. Like here, but less snow.”

“Really?”

I kept prompting him and learned that he came from a little village by the name of Medwell on the banks of the lake, not far from Redcliffe. He became more animated the more I asked him questions, and soon was telling me about his father, his sister, the hunter that taught him to shoot and the elderly neighbour that taught him to read. I conceded to telling him a little about Earth too. I was getting tired of talking about Earth by this point, but his enthusiastic stories of his home made me wistful for mine.

“Back to work!” Harritt called out, and the workers finished the last of their lunches and began to return to their stations.

“Come on, I’ll show you what to do next.” I told Simon, and he jumped to his feet.

“Aye aye.”

With some careful measuring, we managed to bore some seats for the rolling elements in our bearing casing, and Simon showed me how to use the lathe to turn one of the elements myself. I knew all the theory but didn’t have the practice, and it was hot, fiddly work. 

Even after that, I had to stand in the heat of forge to help Simon temper the steel by heating it and quenching it in water over and over again. The sky was beginning to turn orange by the time that we were in the final stages of polishing and filing the components. We rushed to get the pieces assembled and the wheel back on the wagon while the light was still good.

“Here, you do it.” Simon said, handing me the screwdriver with a grin. I stepped up and put the last screw in the bearing cap.

“Here we go, moment of truth.” I said, and gave the wheel a spin. It turned smoothly, and I gave it another push to test it more. It was perfect. I threw my hands up in the air and jumped up and down, letting out a celebratory squeal. I hopped over to Simon and ruffled his hair with both hands. “Brilliant! We did it! You did it!”

He blushed.

“It’s your invention.”

“I didn’t invent it, I just remembered it. You did far more than I.” I said, with a mock pout, still waving my arms over my head.

“Very nice work.” I heard a voice from behind me and span to face the source of it. Cullen was there, admiring the freely spinning wheel. “These wheels will last us longer?” He asked with a smirk, stepping up and giving it a push.

“Yes, it's called a roller bearing, Ser.” I explained, trying to collect myself and look like I hadn’t just been dancing around. “It should last a lot longer than the plain bearings, and run a lot smoother. It’ll be easier on the horses, I think. I recommend sending this one with the next expedition once we’ve fitted bearings on the rest of the wheels, and see how it gets on.” 

“What’s your name, engineer?” He asked Simon.

“Simon, ser.”

“Good work, Simon.”

“Thank you ser.”

“Fields, with me.” 

He led me towards his tent, nodding greetings to the soldiers we passed on the way. He knew all of them by name, and they all had smiles for him. The sun was disappearing behind the mountain, the last rays peeking out from its shadow. He held the tent flap open for me, and I shuddered at the memory of the last time I’d been in there as I went through.  _ What could he want with me now?  _

“Thank you, ser.” I said, trying to get on his good side.

“You don’t have to call me ser, Fields.” He said.

“... Then you don’t have to call me Fields, ser.” I replied, regretting it immediately as he raised his eyebrows at me. “Oh- I mean- I don’t really know how this military hierarchy stuff works. I don’t have a rank here, and you do…”

“You’re not one of my soldiers.” He said as he went to his desk and started clearing away papers. “And I don’t expect you’ll be without rank for long, if your tip about the Hinterlands bears good results.  _ And _ if Leliana and Josephine get their way I imagine you’ll have a title on par with “the Herald of Andraste” before long.”  _ Ah, he hasn’t heard then. _

“What should I call you, then?” I asked.

“ “Commander” is fine, or “Commander Cullen” if you insist.” He said with a polite smile.  _ Not too chummy then. _ “And what should I call you?”

“You can just call me “Charlotte”, in the absence of ostentatious titles.” I replied. He nodded.

“Josephine and Leliana’s ...machinations were what I wanted to talk to you about, as it happens.” He went on. “I think they’re adamant about turning you into another figurehead to be worshipped, and they’ll have you cooped up in that cabin writing notes. But you did some good work today in the workshop. I think we need you working hands-on in there.”

“Oh.” It did make a lot of sense. I had a good time today. There’s nothing like making something work entirely from raw materials, and I’d been sick of writing down equations with that awful scratchy quill all day. “I’d like that.” I said.

“I will have to speak to the rest of the council.” He said. “But even the Herald has been running errands. I see no reason we shouldn’t put you to work.” He bent to jot something down on a clipboard on his desk, but as he came back up he winced, and rubbed his hand on his temple.

“Are you alright, s- Commander?” I asked, although I could guess pretty easily what was wrong.

“It’s nothing.” He said, but paused before narrowing his eyes at me and sighing. “You know what it is.” I nodded slowly. There it was again, the uncomfortable intimacy of me knowing his secrets. He pulled his face into a tight smile and changed the subject. “How long is it you’ve been here now?”

I exhaled deeply.

“About a week.”

He looked down at his desk and up at me again.

“I was going to head to the tavern. Would you like to come with me?” He said.

This I hadn’t been expecting. I’d barely been expecting him to be a tavern sort of man at all. Then again, there was the Wicked Grace scene. The blood rushed to my face thinking of it, and I averted my gaze while I tried to push the thought out of my head, but when I made eye contact again I saw his face betray the tiniest amount of nerves.

Josephine and Leliana seemed to get on with him well enough, but I could hardly imagine them being close at this stage. He was closer with Cassandra, and Varric was a friend to everyone, but both of them were gone to the Hinterlands. Most of the other people he had a chance to get to know were direct subordinates. He felt sorry for me, I detected, but more than that I suspected he just wanted a friend, and here I was already knowing all about him.

“I’d like that very much, Commander.” I said, with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much for reading and for the kudos and comments!   
> I'm going to have to figure out what the right schedule is for keeping regular updates but not letting it get on top of me. I'm starting to feel like a week is too short. This is an extra long chapter, so I hope that makes up for the lateness! I might have gotten carried away watching youtube videos about bearings and metallurgy.


	10. Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far: Charlotte's intervention has sent the Herald and her party to the Hinterlands to meet with Mother Giselle. Left behind in Haven, she has given up her thorough documentation of Earth's technology and science for now in favour of hands-on work in the workshop with Cullen's encouragement. Now Cullen, also left behind, has invited her to the tavern.

The tavern was quieter than it had been the last time I was here, without the crew that had gone to the Hinterlands. There were still people packed into every corner, but fewer crowds outside in the cold. I had to hide my amusement when I saw the difference in the way people responded to Cullen here. Down in the camp it was all smiles and camaraderie, but when they were caught in their off time by their commanding officer, lots of the patrons sporting uniforms straightened their backs and grimaced. 

“I hadn’t taken you for a tavern man, Commander.” I remarked as we took a seat at a table that had just been vacated by two sheepish looking scouts.

“In moderation.” Cullen replied, before leaning in to elaborate. “It’s not wise to be too friendly with one’s subordinates, but joining in for a drink or two reminds them you’re all on the same side.”

Looking at their reactions, it seemed that his subordinates still very much saw him as the big scary boss up here, but maybe there was some truth in it. Cullen looked around for Flissa and tried to wave her down but she didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ll go to the bar. An ale?” He asked.

No sooner had he gone, than a putrid stench of alcohol passed over me. A soldier sat down in Cullen’s empty chair. He was a skinny man with coarse, straw like hair and heavy eyes. Bits of his armour seemed to be missing, and his twisted sash was coming loose.

“You the oracle?” He asked, slurring his words.

“I’ve been called that…” I replied, not sure whether to humour the man or get away from him. 

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Yes, that’s me. The oracle.” I sighed, looking for Cullen. He was too far into the crowd to notice.

“Now I need you to tell me something, if you know everything like they says.” He said. “I’ve got a girl back in Denerim, and she said she’d wait for me. I don’t trust the hussy. Is she waiting for me?” He pointed a finger at me, uncomfortably close to my face. Somehow he managed to keep it dead steady while swaying so much he was almost falling off his stool.

“I… don’t know.” I replied, honestly. He clenched his lips together and smacked the table with the hand that had been pointing at me.

“Some oracle you are! Liar!” He shouted, a few drops of spit flying at me. “Tell. Me. If. She’s. Got. Another. Man.” He growled, getting in close. I stuttered at him and pulled away, painfully conscious of the scene he was causing. Would everyone else think I was a liar too?

“Wilkins.”

The drunken soldier froze in place with his mouth hanging open. Cullen was back, a tankard in each hand, standing over him.

“Oh, ser! Sorry ser, take this seat ser.” He cringed, getting up and somehow almost going off-kilter in the process.

“Are you bothering Miss Fields, Wilkins?” Cullen asked. Wilkins flapped his mouth open for a few seconds, before steeling himself and trying to straighten up to Cullen’s height.

“I was just  _ asking _ ,” He breathed in, as if that would make him any taller. “That fake  _ oracle _ ,” His eyes seemed to be bulging out of his head “To do some orac- do some oracling!” He shouted the last words and snapped his mouth shut into a bizarre grimace. By the time he was done, everyone in the tavern was staring, and the gentle twangs of Maryden’s lute had faded into silence.

“Back to your tent, now.” Cullen said coldly. “My office, first thing tomorrow. If I see you back here, or anywhere that’s not your tent between now and then, your punishment gets doubled.” 

Wilkins’ momentary burst of courage deflated and he trailed out of the tavern, halfheartedly kicking a stool as he went. Everyone looked expectantly at Cullen, nobody willing to draw his ire. I wondered again if this drinking session was really having the effect he wanted. Eventually, he raised one of the tankards above his head.

“Back to your business.” He said awkwardly, and a few chuckles passed through the crowd as the chatter resumed. Slightly red-faced, he sat back down with me and passed me a tankard. “I apologise for Wilkins, he’s nearly more trouble than he’s worth.”

“What’s he worth?” I prompted.

“He’s another body, and every body counts when we’re facing down what we are.” He said quietly, staring into the distance as he took a drink of his ale. We were silent for an uncomfortably long amount of time. I was terrible with awkward moments, never quite knowing what words could break the silence or what shape to form them into. I glimpsed sideways at Cullen, and caught him glimpsing at me too. I felt the corners of my mouth tense. He wasn’t too proud to talk to me; he too was at a loss of what to say.

“Where are you from, Cullen?” I asked, keeping my tone light. I already knew the answer of course, but I hoped giving the impression that I didn’t know  _ everything  _ about him might put him at ease. 

“Highever.” He replied. I stared at him blankly. Was the story I knew less accurate than I thought?

“Are you sure?” I said, kicking myself as soon as it came out of my mouth.  _ Is he sure? Of course he’s sure! _

His face broke into a smirk and I realised I’d been fooled.

“You don’t need to ask me questions you clearly already know the answer to just for politeness’ sake.” He said.

“Very crafty.” I said. I really didn’t think he had it in him, but the man was an excellent chess player after all. “I didn’t mean to trick you, I just-”

“It’s alright.” He said. “Why don’t you tell me about where you’re from?” 

My face definitely gave away my weariness of this question.

“You don’t have to, erm… I’m sure it must be tiresome.” He said. “I will listen as if I am from your world too. I will try my best to keep up.” I couldn’t have been more delighted to hear it.

“Well, I’m from a city called Oxford. It’s famous for its university, but I live on the outskirts.” I started. 

“Do you live with family?” He asked.

“I used to.” I said. “My parents aren’t around anymore so I’ve been living with my aunt for a few years while I was looking for a job. But she passed away recently and left the house to me.”

“I’m very sorry.” He said, face softening. I shrugged. “But you were looking for work for  _ years _ ?”

Ah, this world, where vaguely wandering into the workshop got me full time employment.

“Yes, there’s a lot of people and not a lot of jobs. I’m trained for it but you have to be very lucky or you have to be the very best.” I explained. “I worked temporary jobs in restaurants and places like that from time to time but I really wanted to be an engineer.” 

“Well you deserve to be one, from what I saw today.” He said kindly. He looked terribly sorry for me, which I wasn’t quite sure if I felt thankful for or embarrassed about.

“It’s just a case of finding  _ something  _ before my inheritance runs out now. But I only have to worry about that if I can get back.” I finished, trying to brush off his pity with a nonchalant shrug.

“We’ll do what we can.” He said earnestly.

“What about your family?” I asked, and he eyed me suspiciously. “You have to humour me, I can’t just talk about myself all night.”

He had to concede to that one, and we spent the evening swapping stories. He told me about the time his sister lost him at a market as a child, and found him in a pigpen “training” all the pigs. I told him about going to the safari park and the monkeys pulling bits off our car. He did very well at listening as if he knew what a car was, even if his face betrayed that his mind was being blown.

I kept having to use my mantra of remembering the time he’d stopped me outside by the camp and how mean he’d been. It neutralised the effect of how devastatingly handsome he was quite a bit, but my mind kept making excuses for him, knowing the level of stress he’d been under at the time and how genuinely suspicious I must have seemed. I just had to mentally shout at myself every time my eyes were drawn to the scar on his lip.  _ Hey, stop that, idiot! Not helpful. _

A while later, Maryden came to our table. She walked like a dancer, toes first on every step. Somehow she made it through the crowd without having to elbow her way through like everyone else, elegantly sidestepping and weaving around the patrons.

“Madam Oracle.” She said, with a bow. “Commander.” She bowed to Cullen too before turning back to me. “I wished to tell you, Madam Oracle, that I was transported by your singing on your last visit, and enchanted by your exotic music. May I request the honour of learning your song so that I may perform it each night for the good people of the Inquisition?” She spoke with such flourishing gestures and clear diction that I felt like we were all on the stage.

“Of course.” It would be nice to keep sharing music from home. The idea brought something else to mind though, another song that seemed appropriate. “But in exchange, could I beg use of your lute?” I asked. I felt it was only right to match her flowery language. She raised her eyebrows and smiled, and handed it over with yet another flourish of her hand. What I had meant was to borrow it during the day sometime to practice but Maryden’s encouraging gaze made me feel too awkward to hand it straight back. Cullen had raised his eyebrows too and was watching with interest.

I was a fairly decent guitar player, enough to accompany myself at least. I plucked a few strings and it seemed a Thedosian lute was tuned the same as a modern guitar. I gave it a single strum. It would do quite well, in fact.

“Do you have another song for us?” Asked Maryden. Cullen was looking at me, and so were some of the other patrons. The red haired scout was here, Leliana’s spy. I didn’t like being looked at usually, but performance had always been different. Maybe it was because when I was performing, the words were written for me.

“Yes, I can share another one. It’s called  _ Caledonia _ .” I said, starting to play a very approximate and simplified version of the intro. The feeling of the strings under my fingers grounded me somehow. I wasn’t sure what material they were, but they felt rough against my skin. Ever since I came out of the Fade, everything I’d experienced had felt like a dream, but the pinches at my fingertips didn’t wake me up. I was here. “This song is about someone missing their home, a place once called Caledonia. It’s a beautiful country neighbouring mine.” I went on, over the sound of the lute. I was gathering a crowd again.

“ _ I don’t know if you can see, _

_ The changes that have come over me,  _

_ In these last few days I’ve been afraid, _

_ That I might drift away, _

_ So I’ve been telling old stories, singing songs, _

_ That make me think about where I came from, _

_ And that’s the reason why I seem, _

_ So far away today, _

_ And let me tell you that I love you, _

_ That I think about you all the time, _

_ Caledonia, you’re callin’ me, _

_ And now I’m going home. _

_ For if I should become a stranger, _

_ Know that it would make me more than sad, _

_ Caledonia’s been everything I’ve ever had.” _

I had to approximate the lyrics for the rest of the verses again, and I almost thought to reach for my phone to look them up. It was the first time since I’d arrived in Thedas that some instinct from life on Earth had taken hold. An old life, only a week dead.

I reached the end of the song and slowed into the last bars. The applause was jarringly cheerful. I plastered a smile on my face and handed the lute back to Maryden, blankly nodding and thanking her for the flowery compliments she was giving me. I nodded to Cullen awkwardly, and got up to leave the tavern.

The night air outside was sharp and the snow had a ghostly glow in the moonlight, tinged with green from the lingering Breach. Part of me hoped that I’d blink and find myself on a tarmacked pavement, where the moonlight reflected off puddles and glass instead of ice and mountains. I was wistful even for the sound of passing cars and the smell of cigarette smoke.

I started walking and didn’t stop. My legs carried me past my cabin and out of the front gate, all the way through the camp to the edge of the frozen lake. A stiff breeze was blowing through me, and it blew wisps of powdery snow over my boots. I wanted to step out onto the icy surface, but a light caught my eye in the distance at the other side of the lake. A green twist in the air. It blinked into a spark, and extended a tendril out as if it were reaching out to something. A figure materialised, tiny and hunched, wrapped in a black cloak. It seemed to suck the colour from the trees and grass around it. I stood transfixed, my heart in my throat. 

“Are you well, Charlotte?”

The voice snapped me out of it, and I turned to see Cullen standing behind me. His breath made a fog in the air and he was rubbing his gloved hands together for warmth. I suddenly realised how cold I was too and began to shiver.

I pointed with a shaking hand to where I’d seen the figure materialise.

“D-Despair demon.” I managed to say, suddenly aware of my chattering teeth and tears stinging at my eyes. Cullen’s expression went grim.

“Go to my office and wait for me there.” He said, turning back towards his camp.

As soon as I stepped through the entrance of his tent, the tears started to come in earnest. They splashed on my cheeks, their heat stinging on the cold flesh. I sunk to the ground on the rug and buried my face in my hands.

The idea of getting back to my world seemed hopeless. So many parts of my life and everyone I ever knew could be gone forever. Would anyone miss me, back on Earth? Were they searching for me?

I collected myself, realising where I was. I could get upset in my cabin, but not here. I’d only just started to win Cullen over. Just as I got up from the ground, he returned.

“I’ve sent a patrol over to the rift to deal with the demon.” He said, stepping to his desk and taking his gloves off. “We’ll get the Herald to go and close it when they come back. I’m not sure how we managed to miss one so close to the camp until now. It must have been unusually dormant...” He looked me in the face and I almost flinched away so that he wouldn’t see.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure this is not what you wanted to do with your evening.” I said, brushing away tears. “I just, uh. I realised I’m stuck here.”

“... It’s alright.” He said softly as he leant on the front of the desk. “I left my home to join the Templars when I was just thirteen, myself. And then, the Blight…”

I nodded. His home was destroyed. At least life was going on for everyone I knew. All the places that meant something to me were still there, somewhere in another pocket of existence. There was a moment of silence again, but not an awkward one. It was peaceful, somehow, a shared understanding.

“I should go,” I said, eventually. “If I’m going to be back on duty at the workshop at the crack of dawn.”

Cullen nodded.

“If you should need anything,” He said. “I will do what I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter before I go on a bit of a hiatus, probably a few weeks. I hope I've left it on a satisfying cadence, with some good good Cullen times and some good good angst. I like updating weekly, but i'm flying by the seat of me pants here and I'd like to at least get a few chapters ahead so I can go back and edit. I'm thinking the best schedule might be writing larger self-contained sections and releasing them in weekly chapters when they're fully done.  
> This one is dedicated to the AO3 text input box for thinking all my British spellings are spelling crimes by me, a spelling criminal. Have some extra Us for good measure:  
> uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu


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